The Happiest We've Been in Awhile
by HanaDear
Summary: Puck just spent the last several hours discovering that McKinley's resident Goth isn't exactly full of doom and gloom—and for some reason, this freaks him out even more. The beginning of a Puck/Tina friendship, set sometime after 1x10.
1. Only the Beginning

**Author's Note: So..I don't really know where this came from lol, but I was advised to just run with it. I'm usually a huge Tartie fan, but I guess my fangirl heartbreak produces interactions between Puck and Tina instead. I've been working on this for awhile, so I'm pretty excited to see where this goes.**

**As cute as that _Clueless_-talking-on-cells-while-you're-right-next-to-each-other homage was (RIP Brittany Murphy :/), let's pretend for the sake of this fic, that Mercedes kept the baby drama secret to herself. Or that she told Kurt. And they somehow managed to not tell anyone else. I'm not really sure when this takes place, but I'd say it's definitely after Ballad. That is all for now.**

**Happy Reading :]**

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_**Chapter 1: Only the Beginning**_

Puck never understood why human emotion had to be such a complicated mess. He remembered when he was younger—when things were defined as either right or wrong, happy or sad. Everything seemed so much easier then. Simpler.

Yet as he recalls his parents' shouting matches and his father packing up and leaving one night, now he thinks that maybe he just never understood it all.

And as he gazes dumbfounded at the sight before him, he realizes he still doesn't.

He turns around quickly to double-check that he didn't stumble into the ladies' room by accident (on normal circumstance he might not have minded that). Spotting the urinals and graffiti and the unmistakable stench, he's pretty sure he's in the right place.

What's different, though, is the fact that there's a mass of black and blue slumped against the wall by the sinks that he identifies as Tina. She's leaning with her gloved hands swiping at trickling tears, her streaked hair a flowing curtain around her face.

Puck's no one to judge, but he doesn't really think this is sanitary.

He stands there awkwardly with his hands jammed into his pockets for a few seconds, debating whether or not to just walk right back out. Before he could make up his mind, she raises her chin and she spots him—a horrific deer-in-the-headlights look etched perfectly onto her flushed face.

And if anything was certain right now, it was that Noah Puckerman does not do tears.

So he says the first thing that comes to mind.

"You lost?"

Brilliant.

She sniffles a little and a few more tears fall past her defensive glares. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable.

Of all the people to walk in, it just _had_ to be him.

"So, uh, do you want me to go grab Mercedes or one of your little friends?"

"It's fine," she mumbles and he notices that her husky voice and the quivering of her bottom lip are saying otherwise.

Before he could even blink, she's grabbing her messenger bag and rushing past him out the door. For a moment he thinks he may have just imagined it all.

* * *

He doesn't see her again until Glee rehearsal after school. Not that he was looking.

It's been a couple of hours and the redness in her eyes has cleared, but he can't look at how calm she appears without thinking that she must have one hell of a poker face.

Considering she always seems to be lacking a smile at the beginning of these meetings anyways, she seems perfectly fine; the only odd thing about her disposition is that she's seated across the room from Abrams. Puck's not stupid—everyone in the club knew how inseparable those two usually were. Not that that means he cares about any of them. Because he doesn't.

Soon enough, his reverie is shaken by Mr. Schuester strolling into the room, sheet music clutched in his hands and an enthusiastic gleam in his eyes.

Even after the Berry-stalking ordeal, Mr. Schue apparently hasn't given up on this ballads idea, eternally determined to 'shake things up a bit'. The only difference is that this time they get to pick their partners. The group seemed to sigh collectively in relief until he added that they were still using that stupid hat to determine the order in which they were allowed to pick.

It's not that the club hasn't bonded—he's sure that a few months ago Matt and Mercedes weren't sharing these comical knowing looks and Santana wasn't swapping beauty secrets with Kurt, but the fact remains they're teenagers—and that usually meant that drama was present, even in such an overlooked club as Glee.

Puck doesn't know how it happens, but 5 minutes pass and those that were left were Tina, Artie, himself, and Quinn. The look of discomfort on their faces reminds him of the expressions of the kids leftover after picking teams for elementary dodge ball.

He didn't know whether to laugh or not.

Puck's name is drawn next and he stares dumbly at the rest of them.

Quinn was rolling her eyes, an uneasy look only he recognized veiled behind her cool exterior. Normally he'd jump at the chance to be alone with her, but since their last fight, he doesn't know whether it's worth trying anymore. He looked to the other two; Artie's frown lines signified his own anxiety, and Tina wouldn't even look at any of them.

For the next 27 seconds, he weighed out his options—or lack there of.

First off, there's the Queen of the Damned, who he just oh-so-awkwardly found crying in the boys' bathroom. Better yet, there's Abrams, whose wheels he had duct taped one too many times. And last but not least, the pregnant girlfriend of his best friend who was secretly carrying his child.

He didn't really feel like laughing anymore.

Quinn arched an expectant eyebrow while Artie and Tina looked horrified at the prospect of being paired together—which he didn't exactly understand, considering how they were usually attached at the hip…so to speak.

He tried to determine which of these potential partnerships would be the least sufficiently awkward; his brain reeled through food fights and rejection to slushies and dumpsters—so far they were all tied.

"So, who will it be?" Will asks as if he's some snazzy game show host, the smile on his face revealing he's getting a kick out of this himself.

Taking one last look at Quinn before he speaks, Puck can't believe he's about to do this.

"Tina," he announces dully.

The silence is deafening.

"Interesting," Schue comments with a chuckle before scribbling their names down on his clipboard. The club is staring at him in surprise; Tina is fixing him with this look that tells him she's trying to figure out what kind of game he's playing at.

He wishes he knew, too.

* * *

"Okay this is stupid. Can't I just know why you were hiding out in the boys' bathroom? You can't expect that to not raise a shitload of questions."

She visibly tenses.

They were in his truck headed to his house to practice. He figured this was the best option—he had to be home in time to help his sister with her spelling and he wasn't sure he wanted to visit her vampire's lair just yet.

He shrugs off her silence since they were arriving at his street. There's an old green Honda in the driveway; Puck grimaces a little at the realization that his mother would be home.

Tina removes her gaze from out the window to look at him.

"What?"

"You'll see for yourself in about 2 minutes."

* * *

"Oh Noah, she's _gorgeous_…"

"Mom," he started with a wary tone, knowing what was coming.

He tried to explain that Tina was just a girl from Glee. That up until an hour ago, they barely said more than two words to each other; that between her stoic stares and fishnet gloves, she kind of freaks him out. Not to mention her miraculously cured stutter nobody seemed to be addressing these days.

But his dear mother either didn't hear him, or just chose not to.

"_Cohen_-Chang—and _Jewish_?"

Tina nods politely before he could warn her—but it was too late, the dam had been broken.

"Oh this is…"

"_Mom."_

"You're Trudy's daughter, aren't you!" she beamed in realization, her hands clasped together in an excitement that shone from the golden speckles in her brown eyes to the tips of her wavy dark hair. "Oh, what a sweet woman…"

"Ma," he huffs, all but whining, running an exasperated hand across his Mohawk. "Can we please not do this?"

She turns to her son as if just now noticing he was pleading with her and quickly silences. She does a zipper motion across her lips but the gleam in her eyes is still apparent and despite her discomfort, Tina can't help a small smile of her own.

"It's just you never bring any girls home," his mother reasoned before he could shush her again.

Tina continued to smile with her shy and slightly uneasy courtesy. He simply snorted.

"Tina doesn't count."

"Noah Puckerman!"

"It's just a Glee thing! I didn't mean it like that, Ma," he grumbles and nods towards Tina. "See, Tina doesn't mind, right?"

"Not at all," she supplied dryly.

"Great. We'll be in my room."

Before his mother could start up with the gushing again, Puck shakes his head and swiftly leads Tina up the stairs in silence.

Various mismatched frames of family photos litter the walls surrounding the staircase. A little league baseball mug shot. A little girl in a Halloween costume. A Mohawk-less Puck in a family portrait. Was that an actual smile?

His bedroom door is opening before her, and she takes his nod as a cue to walk in before him.

"Your mom seems nice."

It seemed harmless enough, but he recognized that look. _He_ usually gives that look. He scowls.

"Shut it, Anna Wu."

She just smirks slightly, taking a seat at the foot of his bed as he pulls his guitar case open. Tucking a foot under her and looking around his bedroom, she notes it's cleaner than she thought it would be—aside from the hoodie draped over his desk chair and a few scattered trophies and a basketball that make his room look that much more boyish.

She gazes at the maroon walls and also notices the calendars with busty models and laughs, not all that surprised by the_ Sports Illustrated _posters close by. What does catch her eye, though, is the old-fashioned record player and neat vinyl collection by his nightstand; it looks out of place with the athletic vibe and cluttered casualness of the rest of the room.

She turns and watches him quietly strumming and notices how the customary sneer on his face dissolves instantly. She smiles softly. Perhaps this afternoon wouldn't be so horrible after all.

And if it was, they'd both blame Mr. Schue anyway.

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**Hope you guys liked the beginning! Reviews are love.**


	2. Something Familiarly Unfamiliar

**Author's Note: First off, thanks for the reviews and favorites! It's nice that others are enjoying this after debating on posting this for so long lol. Again, I'm a usually a Tartie fan myself so I'm not all that sure where this came from either, but I'm enjoying writing the Puck/Tina friendship dynamic, so I'm glad there's some open-minded readers. I have a lot of this written out, but I might change directions depending on the response. This chapter's a bit slower since I'm still establishing where it's going so there's a lot less dialogue, so I can't wait to post the next one lol. Enjoy!**

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**_**Chapter 2: Something Familiarly Unfamiliar**_

Puck heads back to his room, water glasses his mother shoved at him in hand, to find her strumming on his guitar, singing faintly along to the melody. She's looking a lot more content compared to earlier today. When she notices him reenter, she quickly stops and moves to gingerly set his guitar back on his bed.

He chooses to ignore her uneasiness.

"I didn't know you play."

"I only know a few songs," she murmurs, playing a little with a stray thread on his comforter as her voice dwindled down. He was pretty sure there was more to that sentence, mainly having something to do with a certain wheelchair-bound friend of hers, but he didn't push for information.

"What were you just playing?" he asks gruffly although he knows, half hoping to steer the conversation away from awkward territory.

"An old Tegan and Sara song. I doubt you know them."

And then he surprises her.

Picking up his guitar, he strums out the first few chords of "Nineteen" and her eyes widen in delighted surprise.

"Tell anyone I know this song and you're dead, Gothika."

He watches her smirk a little to herself, but she nods.

"Wouldn't tell a soul, Puck," she offers, holding up a pinky for good measure. The laugh she's been holding back is released as he scowls at her.

He shakes his head, picks up his guitar and restarts the song, her voice soon floating along gently, mixing with the melody perfectly.

"_I feel you in my heart, and I don't even know you…"_

_

* * *

_An hour or two later and she's bounding down the stairs to leave, declining his offer for a ride home. He closes the door behind her and trudges back towards the empty living room, his mother already asleep because of her early shift, his sister Sara already knocked out considering she's seven and can't stay up past 8 PM.

No more than 30 seconds later there's a knock at the door. Quickly scanning the room for any dark and spooky object Tina might've left behind, he approaches the door once more.

"Forget something?"

"I—" she falters, gaze to the ground, looking like she's having a difficult time finding the words.

As he watches her fiddle with the strap of her messenger bag she slung over her shoulder, he found himself a little taken aback; it was truth she was known as the shy girl, but once she was calmed and comfortable she wasn't all that quiet—she had even taken part in his customary banter and, surprisingly enough, dirty jokes without so much as a blink.

While he was surprised at her change in attitude from just a few minutes ago, there she stood in front of him, mentally cursing herself. She hated being home alone all weekend, so usually when both her parents were away on business, she'd have dinner at the Abrams' on Fridays and fall asleep playing _Halo_ with Artie.

As she took a step off the porch, she realized she didn't have that option anymore. She could probably ask Kurt or Mercedes to pick her up, but she didn't feel like being pushed to talk about Artie, and if they offered one more time to give her a makeover, she was pretty sure she'd spontaneously combust on the spot.

She inhaled and shut her eyes for a second, not believing she was going to ask this.

"Do you mind if I stay a little bit longer?" she quietly asks his shoe, afraid of the malice she might find if she looks up at his face. When she finally does, he's just staring at her dumbly, an eyebrow arched.

"Why would you do that?" he asks, honestly confused.

She cringes.

"I can't really stand the silence at home right now," she mumbles vaguely and he watches her watch her feet.

Had his brain been on autopilot, he would've already retorted that this wasn't his problem and to suck it up, but something in the way her voice sounded so small stopped him.

She took his silence to mean the worst, and she found herself sputtering and berating herself for being so stupid.

As he watched her prepare herself to pretty much flee from his front doorstep, the sound of him clearing his throat seemed to grab her attention. Maybe he was getting soft or something, but he found himself moving to the side of the doorframe regardless and she looked back up at him in surprise.

He seemed to be good at hiding his own surprise and looked at her expectantly.

"Well, are you coming in, or what?"

* * *

Matt had texted him a few times, and although he didn't really feel like attending the typical Lima party tonight anyway, he really didn't expect to be spending his Friday night on his sofa, sharing popcorn with Tina Cohen-Chang.

They're halfway through _Zombieland _when he looks back at her to notice she's fallen asleep against the armrest, her breathing steady and her hair filtering over her eyes. Without really thinking, he reaches over to place a pillow under her cheek.

He vaguely ponders what his mother would say to him letting a girl sleepover on their couch, before suddenly realizing he's been staring at her sleeping form for a good five minutes, and shakes his head. Before he could even process the day, he feels his own eyes closing. The last things he remembers are the sounds of Tina's soft breathing and some zombie getting pulverized onscreen.

* * *

Tina wakes up in a panic.

First from the daze of forgetting where she was, second from the realization she had slipped down the couch in her sleep, using Puck's thigh as a pillow, and third from worrying what his mother must think of her. She only relaxes a little when he promises to make her an omelette in exchange for her calming the fuck down. He offhandedly adds that his mother already left for her early shift, simply putting a blanket over Tina and telling him to "be good."

She's amazed at how comfortable they've gotten around each other. Granted, 'comfortable' is still a pretty relative term; she still won't elaborate on the exact reasons he found her in that restroom and the awkwardness of different crowds and daily slushies is apparent, but it's comfortable to the point of discussing music, Glee, and swapping the frequent teasing banter.

She finds it odd that the first time she hangs out with a guy who isn't either gay or romantically interested in her outside of their core group of friend's it's him, and he's thinking the same about her—except he replaces 'core group of friend's' with something a little less appropriate.

She sits casually on top of his kitchen countertop, swinging her legs absently as she hands him ingredients, still in disbelief at the fact that she slept over at Noah Puckerman's and was now watching him make her breakfast. A few times he looks over from the stove to find her having a staring contest with one of his kitchen tiles with a glassy look in her eyes, presumably thinking about what bothered her enough to breakdown yesterday.

He doesn't ask, and she doesn't tell.

* * *

His sister soon wakes up for the morning cartoons and when she asks Tina to join her, Tina takes one look at Sara's infectious, toothless grin and couldn't resist her own excitement; she hadn't been awake this early on a Saturday for years.

Puck even laughs as he watches Tina sing along to the theme song of an ancient rerun of _Pepper Ann_ while Sara screeches along to harmonize.

_"Who's that girl? What's her name? Is she cool? Is she lame?"_

He noticed this yesterday; when Tina's singing, even something as catchy and corny as this, her eyes light up a bit; she transforms a little into the confident, Badass!Tina he's been surprised by during their Glee performances. He's sure Sara is excited to have a girl around and Tina appreciates the company, considering he discovered she's an only child.

_"Pepper Ann, Pepper Ann, much too cool for seventh grade..."_

* * *

When Puck drops her off in the afternoon, he hesitates. Noting the fresh layer of snow on the ground, he frowns.

"You walk to school everyday?" he basically grunts, the sentence coming out more like a statement than a question.

"I—yeah," she answers uncertainly, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as her own statement came out more like a question. "Why?"

Puck just shakes his head, looking lost in thought.

Still a little confused and doubting he'd elaborate, she silently scoots from the seat. As she slams the creaking door closed behind her she turns around to speak through the open window.

"Thanks, Puck," she says quietly, her painted blue nails dangling over the windowsill to fiddle with the door lock. She shakes her head a little, thinking how strange the last several hours have been before she's flashing him one of her tightlipped smiles and ambling up her walkway.

She wasn't entirely sure she heard it, but she thinks he mumbled a goodbye into the steering wheel.

He watches as she unlocks her front door and gives him a small, final wave. Puck just spent the last several hours discovering that Mckinley's resident Goth isn't exactly full of doom and gloom, and for some reason, this freaks him out even more.

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**Reviews are love! :]**


	3. The Game Changer

**Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for the reviews. Not only am I happy that people are responding well to a Puck/Tina friendship fic or wherever I end up taking this, but I've also learned to just run with my ideas. I was a Puckelberry fan for a little bit before Mash-up aired (but that lasted for about five minutes when I saw the episode and didn't like how it was executed at all) and I'm going back and forth on Tartie (the name ArTina just isn't sticking for me haha), so I'm pretty open-minded with the pairings myself. I tend to make little dorky references to other works, so kudos to those who get a kick out of them and kudos to those who just let me be a dork on my own haha. Hope you guys like this chapter; it was pretty entertaining to write. Enjoy!**

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_**Chapter 3: The Game-Changer**_

Tina gets a text message on Saturday night.

_Why did Santana say she saw you and Puck leaving his house together this morning?_

She laughs grimly and doesn't respond—leave it to Kurt to use no abbreviations whatsoever. Tina's too busy being disturbed by the fact Santana knows this to decide how to explain herself without him blowing this out of proportion, which was likely to happen no matter what she did.

Tina decisively tosses her phone onto her bed and heads towards the bathroom, shedding her jewelry and armwarmers to be greeted by a much-needed shower. She gets a quick flash of Santana clutching stalker-binoculars and a sniper rifle in the tree outside of Puck's family room window. Tina grabs her face cleanser and just as quickly tries to wash the image away.

As she's lathering shampoo into her long, streaked strands, she tries to dissect what exactly she was feeling. Her mind first went to Artie. He was easily her best friend in the world and he hadn't spoken to her in almost two weeks. She tried not to think about how pathetic it was how quickly she went from pushing his chair to having to resort to staring longingly at him during Glee. She moves her face under the showerhead, eagerly dousing her face, definitely not wanting to get into this again.

Rinsing her hair and reaching for the conditioner, she determined this feeling right now was simply tranquility. This was the first time in what felt like forever that she was able to even begin thinking about Artie without promptly dissolving into a puddle. She didn't know whether it was from all the crying she did yesterday morning or hanging around Puck.

She didn't want to think about that either.

* * *

Sunday evening the storm got worse and the snow was a little deeper.

She got a check-in call from her parents and assured them she was fine, conveniently leaving out the little sleepover detail, blaming her failure to call them when she got home from school on a combination of bad reception and misplacing her phone charger. Tina got a few more texts from Kurt and a couple from Mercedes, which she ignored as well. She figured she'd face their combined diva-wrath come Monday.

She briefly thought about texting Puck. She had his number for Glee purposes, but she didn't think that it really seemed fitting. Not too long ago he was throwing slushies in her face. Then again, if someone told her she would be coming home from Puck's this afternoon she would've shuddered at the mere implication. Or just stare at that said person.

It was around the time she got a text from Brittany who asked why the sky was so sad that she decided she'll just face all of it tomorrow.

* * *

Monday morning soon came, and Tina sighed as she sat on a green seat cushion at her kitchen table, swiftly propping a leg up on the chair opposite her one at a time to lace up her boots. She was not looking forward to the daily trek to school that she now had to endure alone.

Opening her front door, she was surprised to find Puck's truck in her driveway. Spotting her, he watched as she hobbled down her porch steps, carefully avoiding the slippery patches on the wood.

He remained silent as she approached, and simply nodded to the front seat as an indication to get in. She stood there for a few seconds simply staring. She thought of Artie and meeting spots and the stinging pain of avoidance.

Needless to say, she got in.

* * *

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

Tina's hand freezes in midair, clutching her Biology textbook.

"I'm putting my books away. Since when was that a crime?" she smirks, recovering when she notices it's just Kurt. She resumes sorting through her books, shrugging off her startled demeanor. This fraction of peace doesn't last as Mercedes sidles up beside him.

"Okay, girl—dish."

"Dish what?" she asks in flat distraction, her attention still on her locker.

She already knew what was coming.

She wasn't surprised Mercedes and Kurt were the first to bombard her when Monday morning came. She was lucky enough to avoid them most of the day, but, as she already knew, brushing it off doesn't and never will work with either of them.

Instead of giving them what they want, however, she simply puts the last of her books away, shuts her locker, and sidesteps their inquisition and walks around them to head towards the choir room.

"Oh c'mon, you can't start some vengeful affair with the resident Neanderthal and not tell us about it," Kurt whispers shrilly, following a foot behind her with Mercedes at his side. "That's just rude—we're supposed to be kindred!"

"Vengeful?" She asks innocently, halfheartedly indulging them as she rounds a corner.

"Seriously Tina, I know Artie broke your heart and all—but Puck? Really? Streetwalkers on Skid Row have chosen better rebounds than that."

"We're just friends," she supplies evenly as she ambles through the open door before them, ignoring the cheap jab about Artie.

She loves them both dearly, but they weren't the most sensitive when it came to bringing up the Artie-topic. Granted, they both wholeheartedly accepted her when she personally told them the truth about her stutter. They wound up on her doorstep the night of their disastrous first date with a tub of ice cream and a box of tissues after Mercedes called Tina, only to be greeted with incoherent babbling and gasping sobs. They both could see why Artie was initially upset with her, but were outraged when he seemingly dropped their friendship entirely. They both essentially took her side in secret, even when she insisted there weren't any sides to begin with.

They were fabulous friends—they just didn't know when to leave her alone.

And if she thought about it, she _was _being honest.

As unbelievable as it was, this _thing_ that she somehow managed to develop with Puck—this teasing, movie-watching, sister-sitting, hanging-out-and-playing-music-without-really-discussing-what-in-fact-was-going-on-or-letting-anyone-else-know-about-it thing falls under all the characteristics of friendship she could possibly think of.

As bizarre and unsettling as that may be.

She figured after their weekend he would probably ignore her to save himself from the awkwardness, but when he showed up at her driveway this morning, her anxiety about it dissipated a bit. After all he was Puck, the guy who was so confident he claimed he could pull off wearing a dress to school. He was the guy who chose Rachel and Glee over football, despite how short-lived their fling was, despite what other slushie-throwing jocks thought of him. They had walked through the school doors this morning, arguing about the particular meaning of some Ramones song, and it was early enough that the few people that were there weren't really paying attention.

Regardless, she doesn't have to look back at Kurt and Mercedes to know they're not buying it.

"Friends? That's got to be the biggest load of bull I ever did hear…"

"That's like saying you're friends with a rabies-infested pit-bull—in this case I'm assuming it's a gonorrhea-infested jock," Kurt comments to the succession of Mercedes laughter.

* * *

Rachel is, predictably, the first person in the choir room when they finally reach it. Rachel promptly looks up from the sheet music she is examining, her legs crossed as she perches daintily on the piano bench.

By the time Tina reaches her, still trying to put a damper on this interrogation, Brittany is prancing towards her with Puck trudging through the door behind her.

"Good afternoon," Rachel greets and smiles her bright Rachel-Berry-smile. "Noah," she adds, and Tina whips around to catch Puck walking in a few paces behind her. He nods a little and, as per usual, trudges over to slump onto one of the plastic chairs and pulls out his guitar.

Tina is looking at him like she wants to say something, but can't exactly find the words.

Frustrated at the lack of response, Kurt asks if a cat got her tongue. Puck watches Tina as she props her elbows up and leans against the black piano and laughs, trying to assure Brittany that her tongue is surely not in danger.

"Hey Artie!" Brittany suddenly greets, and Puck notes curiously how Tina's shoulders tense, although she is facing with her back to the door. She catches Puck's gaze and her cheeks burn a little in discomfort and she shakes her head, attempting to dissuade his questioning gaze.

Soon enough, Schue is walking in, causing them to scatter away from the piano.

Puck's gaze follows Tina as she ambles over, silently taking the empty seat next to him. When their eyes meet she smiles that little half-smile of hers. He nods unsmiling, but she takes the semi-acknowledgement as a good thing.

She notices Kurt and Mercedes staring at them, then back at each other.

"Uh, did I just put myself on their freaky telepathic radar?"

"Yup," Tina responds easily, her voice already shaking with amusement. "But hey, it could be worse," she reasons with a shrug.

He stares at her blankly for a few seconds.

"_How?"_

She laughs at his mockingly incredulous expression, which only further fuels the curiosity of her two friends, completely forgetting her daily ritual of watching Artie. If she were looking—she would've seen that this time, Artie was staring back.

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**Reviews are love! :]**


	4. Navigating What’s New

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this fic! It's kind of cool finding out that people whose stories you love like yours too. I keep trying to make them as realistic as possible which gets tricky since I agree that there's so much more to these characters, so I'm glad you guys like my Puck. These next couple chapters are more of them getting used to this friendship, so I promise I'll get to some drama, maybe of the Artie-variety, soon enough. Enjoy!**

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_**Chapter 4: Navigating What's New**_

"Leave me alone."

It was about a week later and she had the burning desire to do nothing more than to kick Puck in the face.

She guesses this would classify as their first fight, which Tina thinks is a stupid term considering that's something you would reserve for couples or friends, and they were neither of those. At least that's what she determined this morning.

They had been walking down the hall of the second floor together when Puck noticed Karofsky and his cronies strutting towards them. In a quick decisive movement he shoves Tina to the side, essentially causing her to go flying into the empty classroom on their left.

Karofsky passed unaware with a jeer and a stupid fist bump; Tina had collided with an empty desk and landed on her back, swiftly getting the wind knocked out of her. She sat up breathlessly, her confusion and shock soon evolving into hurt and anger when she noticed the jocks pass. When Puck hastened to help her up, she furiously shoved him away, decked him in his throat, and joined the crowds of students passing outside the darkened empty classroom.

Puck was impressed and he might've deserved it, but he didn't really appreciate the fact he couldn't speak properly for the next two class periods.

"Cohen, get in the truck," he demanded hoarsely, ignoring how the corner of her mouth twitched into a smug half smile, noticing the effect her punch still had on his vocal chords.

"Go away. I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that. Now will you get in?" he asks as if bored with the situation now.

"Fuck off, Puck."

He slams on the brakes—he doesn't think she's ever cursed at him directly before.

He had one hand was on the steering wheel as the other dangled out the window, trying to beckon her inside the vehicle as she huffed and stomped away on the sidewalk a couple blocks from McKinley. Up until then he had been following her at a snail's pace, silently thankful no cars were going down this road.

She hid her surprise too and wondered why she never had the courage to stick up to him when he was simply the egghead bully with some odd slushie vendetta. Did this really mean they were friends? She shook her head, thinking of the stinging betrayal and disappointment she felt this morning and plowed forward, ignoring the snow that was seeping into her stockings.

If he was so embarrassed to be seen with her, why was he following her now?

"Look, I'm sorry! I didn't want him to do anything," he tried.

"Bull. You just didn't want to be seen with me," she muttered bitterly, practically growling at the air around her.

"Force of habit?"

She kept walking.

"You know my mom's gonna kick my ass if she finds out I let you walk home alone, right?"

"Sounds like a personal problem."

Grumbling in exasperation, he pulled over to the curb with a screech, quickly leaping from his seat and rushing in front of her. She stopped out of sheer surprise; she figured he would've driven off by now. Next thing she knew, his hands were gripping her shoulders lightly but determinedly, effectively stopping her.

"Tina, I'm sorry," he said firmly, looking her in the eyes. She tried to determine if he meant it. She looked away, shrugging her shoulders out of his grip.

"Now will you please stop being so fucking stubborn?"

"You're not worried about being seen with me?" she asks flatly with an eyebrow arched and arms crossed in front of her grey blouse in doubt, obviously still angry with him.

"It won't happen again. Now get in."

"Why?"

She raises her chin in defiance, holding her ground.

"You're in a skirt and fishnets in the middle of winter."

"So?"

"So, stop being difficult and just get your ass in the truck before we both freeze."

He watches her sigh to herself, still fighting some inward battle. He resolutely starts walking and she glares but allows him to pull her in the direction of his truck.

Maybe he won this one after all.

It's not until he feels the rush of the winter air past their fingers that he realizes he's been holding her hand. It's safe to say that he immediately lets go, pretending to be bothered by her fishnet gloves.

"By the way, that's one badass right hook you've got there," he comments as they settle themselves into the seats of his truck. He's half coughing—partly from his voice being sore, partly from trying to shake his discomfort.

She finds herself scowling to cover up the small smile breaking through.

* * *

On a Wednesday, it was her turn to be frustrated. He'd pick her up and was dropping her off as usual—which she still found odd to deem as a normal thing—but he barely responded with more than a few words to her questions.

"Puck?"

He grunted in response, his gaze remaining on the road in front of him.

"Puck, what's up with you today?"

Nothing.

"Did I do something?"

"You don't call me Noah," he blurts out in an exasperated tone.

He grimaced; he hadn't realized that was actually what was bothering him until he stupidly said it aloud. As if this whole thing wasn't pathetic enough, it was Sara who brought it up. She asked him why his pretty friend with the blue hair didn't call him Noah like she, his mother, and that energetic Jewish girl with the pretty singing voice and scary look in her eyes did.

At first he stared at her.

"Well, she's your friend, right?"

Then he kept staring.

And then she realized she had a point; Sara noticed that all the girls in his life that had ever meant a fraction of anything had called him by his first name, so technically she brought up a good point. He just didn't expect himself to care about it. At all.

"What?" she asks and he winces as a smile begins to dance across her face in realization. "This is why you've been quiet all day?" She takes his annoyed grunt as a yes and continues to laugh.

She pauses for a few seconds and looks at him and notices his face distorted in honest discomfort and it takes a lot of effort on her part to stop giggling.

"Um, I'm not your mother, Puck," she speaks slowly, her voice still shaky with laughter as her eyebrows knit together in confusion and amusement. Noticing this gets no response from him, she sobers a little.

"I just assumed you wanted everyone to call you Puck—even Mr. Schue does," she points out softly now, more to her than to him. She watches as his gaze remains forward as they pass the public library.

"Do you want me to call you that?" she asks in sincere curiosity; her voice is quiet and serious now.

He sat there silently his own eyebrows knit, trying to find the stupid words to describe the stupid way he was feeling.

Why was this a big deal? Did he even _want_ her to call him that?

"Just because we're…friends," she continues uncertainly, never imagining she would ever form that sentence in her life. "Doesn't mean you're not Puck anymore," she says, smiling that half smile of hers that crinkles her eyes and reaches to one corner of her mouth. Right now, he wishes he could wipe it off her face.

"You're the same person—maybe a little more approachable—" she pauses as he shoots her a doubtful glance, "—ish," she clarifies and he deliberately bites back a smirk at her flustered demeanor as she continues to ramble.

"But you'll always just be Puck to me, so I don't see the point of calling you something else—if that makes any sense at all…"

She trails off as she bows her head in slight confusion, the laughter completely dissolved now and regards him with more seriousness than he would've liked.

He actually thinks he misses her mocking him.

"Is that bad?" she asks her knees.

"No it's—whatever," he said, trying to play it off casually. He felt like a complete pansy for bringing this up and letting this bother him for no reason in the first place. Her head picks up and he watches her watch him, and suddenly a playful gleam that wasn't there a second ago makes her eyes glisten; he arches an eyebrow.

"Okay, whatever you say, _Noah_," she coos in a very girlish voice, and he can't help but be reminded distinctly of Rachel Berry. His eyes widen and she positively beams, sensing she hit a weak spot.

"Okay, forget I said anything," he quickly says, scrambling for words to get her to drop it.

"Are you sure, Noah?" she continues to ask in this airy voice that isn't hers, leaning towards him with a face clouded with pretend concern. "Because I find formally addressing one another—"

"Stop it, this isn't fucking funny," he demanded as she placed a dainty hand on his arm.

"—by our mother-given names poses as an utmost important factor—"

"I'm serious, Tina—"

"—to cultivating a healthy friendship full of maturity and—"

"Cut it out!"

She bursts out in laughter, covering her mouth as she stares at Puck, one hand on the steering wheel and the other over an ear, a look of utter horror on his face. Quickly recovering, he glares and straightens up in his seat.

"That was cruel and unusual punishment," he muttered, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he refused to look at her.

"Oh, was it?" she feigns innocence, poking him a little in the shoulder.

"Friggin' uncalled for," he mumbled again. When he turned back to her the laughter died down a little and she was fixing him with a curious gaze, her head tilted to the side as her chin rested on her palm, smiling like she had a secret.

"What _now_?" he grumbles, slowing the truck to a stop.

"You called me Tina," she points out simply.

He stares at her like she had grown three heads.

"I think I liked you better when you didn't speak."

"It was just nice to hear, I guess," she shrugs, still smiling. She shook her head as he glared at her, and she took one look at her front door, just now noticing they had pulled into her driveway.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, _Puck_."

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, gripping the steering wheel and nodding at her. "You're lucky I don't make your annoying ass walk to school."

He watched her laugh again as she shuts the door behind her and saunters up the stone walkway.

"Later Cohen," he called out the window. She smiles to herself with her back already to him and raises her hand behind her head to wave. Rolling his eyes at the goofy gesture, he shifts gears and reaches over to put his arm behind the seat she occupied mere seconds ago.

As he began to reverse he realizes he had on a smile of his own. He sighs as he turns the wheel, steering his way out onto the open road.

Not even two weeks ago they barely said a word to each other, and now she had the power to baffle, irritate, amuse, and intrigue him all at once. If he had learned anything from his track record with emotion—or lack there of—this probably wasn't a good sign.

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**Reviews are love. :]**


	5. I Call Shenanigans

**Author's Note: So…I may have lied. Artie-drama and their ballad will be coming soon, but for now we have my inner fangirl venting on Tina's behalf. And I agree—a Tina/Puck friendship would work on the show if it were executed right. Then again, I'm sure the same goes for Puckelberry or any other relationship as well lol. I'm glad you guys liked the banter—it's fun to write so I'm sure there will be loads more where that came from. I upped the rating since it's Puck, and his language can't exactly be contained haha. Enjoy!**

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**_**Chapter 5: I Call Shenanigans**_

They were staring at his ceiling.

Sara had come home from school that day, delighted with these glow-in-the-dark stars a classmate had given her; she insisted Tina keep them, who cheekily suggested her big brother decorate his ceiling instead.

Sara positively beamed at the idea.

"_Hell no."_

Despite his protests about the women in his life constantly emasculating him—Tina hit him for saying that in front of Sara—he already knows he lost the battle before it even began. For a few minutes, they both watched as Sara stomped around his room pouting and shrieking until he relented with a grumbling, "_Anything for you, Sara-Bear." _

He turned to Tina, who was doing a poor job at restraining her laughter.

"I hate you."

She grinned right back.

Puck scowled at her plenty, blaming her for being the main crusader in Mission: Dampen-Puck's-Macho-Image, but who were they to deny his kid sister's happiness?

Lying on their backs on his bedroom floor, they observed their masterpiece.

They were lying with their heads parallel and their legs facing in opposite directions. The room was silent except for the melody floating from the corner closest to the window. She was still impressed that he even knew what a record player was. When she asked him about it the other day, Puck had said that the vinyl collection is the only decent contribution their father made to his life. His mother told him the record player was the first thing she bought with her own money; it was the only thing besides him and Sara that fueled her sanity when their father left.

And so he kept it, hoping it'd give him some of the sanity he needed too.

"Why'd you stop stuttering all of a sudden, Tina?" he asks abruptly, piercing the comfortable silence they found themselves in.

She notices now that he only uses her first name when he's being serious with her, which isn't very often at all.

She grimaces a little, tugging idly at a few fibers of his beige carpet. She was expecting him to ask that eventually, but hearing it now didn't make answering it any easier.

She opens her mouth nervously only to be cut off.

"And don't give me that _'speech therapy works wonders!'_ bull you gave Chang and anybody else who had the balls to ask—I'm not buying it."

She scoffs a little, secretly more than a bit disturbed at how quickly he's improving at calling her bluffs.

She meant what she said about not wanting to push people away anymore, but right now she cursed her desire for honesty. It was obvious Tina didn't expect Puck to be one of those said people, and only realized he was because true to her word, here she was preparing herself to divulge her secret, putting herself in the hot seat yet again. She's hoping that this time, though, the conversation won't as end as badly as the first.

So she breaks her entranced stare with the plastic stars, shifting so she's lying on her side, her head propped up and leaning on her elbow. As she continues toying with a strand of his carpet, she explains how shy she was when she first moved here, how cruel kids could be—she gave him a pointed look—and that even she was surprised at how long she let the lie last.

When she had finished, the room lapsed back into the Beatles song currently spinning along the record player.

"Wow, you really _are _a freak," he commented, but she could hear the lightness in his tone, relieved that it was nonchalance and silent acceptance instead of real ridicule or disgust. She figured that with Puck, this was the best reaction she could've received.

"Hey, I'm not the one with maroon walls and glow-in-the-dark planets on my ceiling, Puck."

For once, he couldn't think of a decent comeback; he found himself stuck between being bothered or impressed with how good she was getting at mocking him. She giggled a little in victory—he chucked Pluto at her.

"Shut up, Cohen."

Since he was still lying flat on his back, he could feel more than see the small smile on her face, and he quickly nudges her. Her laughter is just dying down when she suddenly sits up.

"I'm starving. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

She shoves him a little at his suggestive smirk and rolls her eyes, already dusting off her plaid red pants and heading towards the door.

* * *

They're sitting across from each other at his kitchen table when they first talk about Artie. When his mother wasn't around for dinner his form of feeding her was limited to drive-thru menus. He was currently regarding her with interest, leaning forward on his elbow, a cheeseburger in hand.

"So he's pissed you faked your stutter?"

"Yeah…I guess you could put it that way."

"So he just flat-out stopped talking to you," he deadpans like he doesn't believe it.

"Pretty much."

He has this really pensive look on his face before he speaks again.

"I have more duct tape if you want it."

"Puck!"

"Seriously, just say the word," he declares, raising his hands to gesture towards her for emphasis. "What a douche," he adds in a murmur before bending forward to take a sip of his soda.

"It was my fault…" she mumbles in guilt, already chastising herself for initially taking a few seconds to consider his offer. He was already a bad influence on her.

"The way I see it," he starts, leaning back against his chair in thought. "You want someone, you _fight_ for them. You don't let crap like that get in the way, especially since you came clean. Hell, you could've taken that lie to your grave and just said his dick miraculously cured the stutter one day or some shit like that."

He ignores how her complexion transforms into a brilliant pink in a mere matter of seconds and continues.

"But you told the truth because you wanted him and his wheelchair instead. How many other girls can you say that about?"

She stared, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"And then he just left you there, right?" he asks, a knowing smirk already in place.

She nods feebly, and he takes this as a confirmation of sorts.

"Then he's a douche," he firmly announces like it's some commonly accepted law, already convinced her silence is vindication.

When she recovers a little she just looks at him oddly; she never saw him worked up over anything, let alone something concerning her. Although she was a bit impressed and felt a sense of gratitude and empowerment wash over her, she couldn't shake the feeling he was mixing a bit of his personal unrequited feelings for someone else in with his words. She made a mental note to ask him about that later.

He notices her studying him again and clears his throat like it's nothing.

"So he's the reason you were kicking it in the boys'?"

The look on her face gives it away.

"Wow. No shame. I can dig it."

She glares at the joke, but there was no point in denying everything, and soon enough she's explaining how she had worked up enough exasperation and nerves to corner Artie, and how he quickly rebuffed her, telling her he doesn't think he could ever look at her the same way again. She inwardly thinks back on how alone she felt as she watched her best friend leave her behind for a second time. It was as if she had swallowed a fist and it was now churning numbly in her stomach.

Tina briefly wonders what made her open up to Puck of all people—he isn't exactly the picture of empathy, especially when two of her closest friends have been pushing her all this time.

And then she thinks that maybe that's the point.

Artie had been the one person she thought would understand and he didn't. She knew he felt betrayed, but she hoped he'd see past her lie to her reasons for feeling that she needed to protect herself; she was so young at the time and it was her own immature defense mechanism. By the time she hit high school and was greeted with slushies, she felt like it was too late and that she'd never make the friends to make her feel like she needed to just drop it.

And then she met Artie.

His friendly eyes and contagious grin convinced her to join Glee with him, and then she met all the amazing people she now considered a second family. And that's another reason she felt so betrayed by him; she saw past Artie's chair—hoping he'd do the same for her, that he'd accept her in the end. And he didn't even want to try. He just couldn't wrap his mind around having any connection with her without the common disabilities he'd so surely built the idea of their relationship working on in his head.

Puck was the exact opposite, and yet she didn't really see it as vulnerability or pressure like it was with Mercedes or Kurt. She didn't really understand it, but there was a sense of security in confiding in someone who probably would've never cared otherwise; it was like there was nothing left to lose.

For a serious talk, it ends pretty ridiculously.

"That's okay, Cohen. If he won't have you, my door is always open. I still have the full use of my penis, too."

She promptly coughs up her drink.

"What? I thought vampires were into freaky shit like that."

She smacks her palm to her forehead, already feeling the heat rising in her cheeks.

"I can't believe I told you that—he's gonna kill me." _If he ever speaks to me again._

"That's all on you," he nodded, propping an arm up to rest on the back of the chair beside him. "I didn't force you to tell me that part."

"Moment of weakness?" she offers, and he rolls his eyes. "_I_ was vulnerable and _you _agreed to buy me a milkshake. Ice cream is like kryptonite in girl-world."

He laughs because, for the most part, it's true. A sundae her way and she was gushing every detail he didn't care to hear. He had to wonder, though, what kind of effect this girl had on him; instead of coaxing to get into her pants he was bribing her to share her feelings—what kind of sick, twisted game was the universe playing with him?

"You don't count, remember?"

She glares and he grins. He even reaches over and pats her head mockingly. Before she could retaliate, Sara comes bounding in with her dark hair pulled into the pigtails Tina braided a few hours ago.

She skips up to Tina, a confused look scrunching up her face.

"What's wrong, Sara?" Tina asks gently, looking mildly concerned at her silent puzzlement.

"Tina, what's a douche?"

Tina shoots a scandalized look back at Puck, who can barely contain his laughter. She throws her French fries at him.

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**Reviews are love. Oh, and Happy New Years, everyone. :]**


	6. Nothing To Do With You

**Author's Note: So, I decided this is my least favorite chapter lol. It's tricky trying to navigate my way back to my usual angst after writing the lovely banter of the last few chapters, but I'm getting there. I also am usually against awkwardly writing songs into fics but considering it's Glee and I promised a ballad I kind of had to haha. For anyone who hasn't heard "Nineteen" by Tegan and Sara, I highly recommend listening to it while you read this…plus it won't be as lame as just reading the lyrics I pasted over lol. I'm pretty proud I've gotten this far though. I've never written a fic like this past 5 chapters and I thought it was a curse so hopefully this isn't too terrible from here on out :p **

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**_**Chapter 6: Nothing To Do With You**_

Puck wasn't sure how or when this happened.

He wasn't sure when Friday nights began being dedicated to 80s horror movie marathons at his house. He didn't know when his mother started automatically setting an extra place setting at the table on those evenings and the seat next to his became _hers_. He wasn't sure when it was they started doing cheesy song covers to make Sara laugh or when he started giving her a ride to and from school. He sure as hell didn't have a clue about any of this—when he started considering hanging out with Tina Cohen-Chang something _normal_.

He just hoped the guys on football didn't find out about this.

All he seems to know is that when the whistle blows signaling the end of football practice and he finds her patiently doodling in a notebook as she sits waiting by his truck tire, his days seem a little easier. It bothers him that this _doesn't_ bother him how routine this has all become.

They'd been hanging out for the better part of a month. What originally started as another Schue assignment evolved into something else he wasn't used to at all. Their duets had been constantly pushed back—between Sue-sabotage and Schue's undisclosed problems at home, they were just getting to their duets next week. Puck knows he has never spent this much time with a girl without some alternative motive. And he doesn't have one with Tina. At least not that he's aware of.

Schue announces they'll be starting the duet performances on Monday, and Puck wonders what will happen to this _thing_ after that; after all, they won't have the excuse of working on their ballad and that's the only reason they've put up with one another all this time. Right?

On this particular Friday after Schue's announcement, things get a little weird.

Their afternoon started out typical enough; Puck finds himself in the chips and dip aisle of a 7-Eleven since it was his turn to decide what junk food they need for tonight while Tina waits in the truck.

His gaze briefly drifts to the slushie machine.

_Dude, those days are behind you. Kinda. _He shakes his head, grabs a bag of these gross white cheddar flavored chips Tina likes, and heads to the cashier.

* * *

Something is different with her today. She hasn't been responding to his teasing and any smile she flashes doesn't even remotely reach her eyes. He doesn't fair well with emotion but he can tell this difference is unlike the day he was frustrated over that whole Noah-calling fiasco. He knows this isn't the first time she's been like this; he figures this mood usually has something to do with Artie, but it doesn't change the fact that she's quiet and upset and he doesn't really know how to handle this Emo!Tina.

"You okay?" he grunts, settling back into his seat with the supplies.

She doesn't say anything, her eyes that vacant stare he hasn't seen in awhile.

"Dude, you're kinda freaking me out…I was tempted to buy a slushie, don't make me go back in there."

She remains silent as if she didn't hear him.

Instead of pushing, he turns the ignition with a sigh, pulling out of the parking lot and heading for home. She watches the passing trees as the normally casual car ride is instead filled with nothing but the sounds of the radio. By the time they reach the sidewalk in front of his house, he's finding himself growing increasingly annoyed that she won't tell him what's wrong.

Before she can realize they've even arrived at his house, he shoves the paper bag at her, momentarily getting her attention.

"Here," he grumbles, putting the truck in park while she halfheartedly begins to rifle through its contents. He lets out another frustrated sigh, propping an elbow on the steering wheel and watching her poke around until she reaches those chips he got her. He begins to speak as she just stares at the bag blankly.

"I don't know what's up with you, but could you postpone your pout-fest so my mom won't think I…"

Before he can even blink she drops the bag, moves across her seat and in a flash her arms are wound around his shoulders and she's got her face buried in the crook of his neck. His brain quickly registers the fact she's practically straddling him in a skirt, but as one of her hands drags to the back of his neck, he hears the almost inaudible sniffle. She inhales a shaky breath before he realizes something in alarm—she's crying.

He may have said it before and he'll say it again: Noah Puckerman does not do tears.

His normally smooth, confident movements are instead replaced with his hands coming around to hesitantly rest on her back. He doesn't know how to react to this—he knows her crying is what started this whole mess in the first place, but he doesn't think they've ever been this physically close, at least not deliberately—there are now countless times they've fallen asleep next to each other like she did that first night, but his brain doesn't seem to count those.

Thinking on how he should go about dealing with this, he figures he could go with his automatic response to tears by either pushing her away, insulting her, or even kissing her to shut her up, yet none of those options seem to seriously fit anymore—at least not with Tina. Not to mention he's never really consoled anyone other than his occasionally nostalgic mother and temperamental little sister. Although he's had his share of intimate moments with countless girls—and then some—this one seems to strike an unidentifiable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Uh, Cohen?" he murmurs tentatively into her ear after a few minutes, the hand that somehow found its way into her hair stilling.

In an instant she's pulling away and scooting timidly back into her seat, as if just realizing her compromising position. What's odd, though, is that behind the relief, he feels a sense of regret wash over him. He watches her swipe at her eyes and tries to figure out why he misses the contact.

He stares at the dash as she regulates her breathing and soon enough they're sitting in another silence. She seems calmer now so he dares to look at her. Seeing she's stopped crying, he finds himself already speaking.

"What was _that_?"

"What was what?"

"Was I the only one present for the assault that just went down?"

Her eyes close for a few seconds, as if mentally putting herself back in banter-mode.

"It's not really an assault if you weren't complaining," she says with a humorless laugh, pulling down the front seat mirror and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve, muttering something about not wanting his mother to see her like this.

"You say that now…" he replies automatically with a sneer, before realizing she was sidetracking him with their usual teasing.

"You're not gonna tell me what's up, are you?"

She pushes the mirror back up, sits back and smirks a little but her eyes narrow warily and she shakes her head in silence.

"Anybody's tires need to be slashed?"

She remains silent, but her small smile is growing and she shakes her head again.

"Well?"

"The chips," she begins vaguely, staring idly at the buttons on his dashboard.

He stares at her dumbly.

"I mentioned they're my favorite like a month ago. I didn't think you were even listening," she says offhandedly and shrugs. "I guess that just struck a chord," she adds pensively, that wry little half-smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

He's still staring at her. He knows there's a whole lot more she's covering and leaving unsaid, but he doesn't see the point in arguing about something she doesn't want to talk about. He also has the fleeting question as to why he cares in the first place.

He watches her open her door and hop out; he doesn't think he'll ever fully understand the inner-workings of the female brain.

* * *

Tina's studying him quietly again when they're practicing later in his living room. Sara is their only audience, her dark eyes lighting up in joy, and they're all too eager to not mention hugs, tears, and awkward car rides. Tina compliments Puck on his singing but tells him he better watch it or Rachel might fall for him like she does when she hears any guy sing.

"Oh wait…"

He glares as she grins, instantly regretting the time he admitted he may have come dangerously and embarrassingly close to developing real feelings for Berry, but responds as usual to the teasing, silently thankful she was talking again.

"Somebody warn Chang and Rutherford…"

* * *

"You ready?"

Monday came too soon and they found themselves up next to perform.

He turns to her, already knowing the uneasiness he'd find there. He remembers seeing the desperate urgency that seeps through her voice when they practice. He knew based on the content of this song alone that come performance time he'd be thinking of Quinn and she'd be thinking of Artie.

Maybe this song wasn't such a good idea after all.

After sitting through Mike and Matt's amusing melodramatic rendition of an Nsync's "Gone" and the lightheartedness of this all, Puck notices Tina breathing easier. He knows singing this in front of Artie isn't the only reason she's nervous; he doesn't quite understand it though, she has a killer voice and has nothing to worry about. As her gaze remains forward, he leans towards her ear and whispers with mock seriousness, _"Let's do this."_

He even offers a teasing fist bump and he feels a little victory as she giggles a little, rolling her eyes as she stands and moves to the performance space in front of the group. He pretends he doesn't see Kurt and Mercedes exchange those knowing looks they've seen a million times now.

Sitting on the stool offered and hoisting his guitar onto his lap, he watches Tina fiddle with her rings, casting nervous glances between him and their friends. Looking back at him one more time and nodding, he began to strum out the first familiar chords. Suppressing the nervous laugh at the goofy thumbs up gestures Matt, Mercedes and Mike were flashing her, Tina began to sing.

_I felt you in my legs before I ever met you_

It takes all her strength to look casual as her gaze drifts over their audience, her eyes passing quickly over Artie.

_  
And when I laid beside you for the first time I told you  
I feel you in my heart and I don't even know you  
And now we're saying bye, bye, bye  
Now we're saying bye, bye, bye_

_I was nineteen  
Calling_

She gripped the microphone gently now, steadily growing more comfortable as the song went on. Puck's voice joined Tina's for the chorus before his solo on the second verse. He's sure he never would've sung these lyrics to an audience in his life, but he guesses this is her doing. He could blame the sap of a song choice on Tina, but there was a thick layer of truth to these words, and soon enough the fervent strength in his tone easily matches hers.

_I felt you in my life before I ever thought to  
I feel the need to lay down beside you and tell you  
I feel you in my heart and I don't even know you  
Well now we're saying bye, bye, bye  
And now we're saying bye, bye, bye_

_  
I was nineteen  
Call me  
I was nineteen  
Call me_

Puck found himself entranced as Tina quieted for his minor guitar solo. He watched as her gaze floated awkwardly over Artie and hastening to look away, he looked at the first person in front of him and instantly regretted it; Quinn was looking at him like he was her sun—it didn't go unnoticed. Quickly looking away from Artie, Tina catches the way Quinn is looking at Puck and something silently clicks.

_I flew home back to where we met _

Tina had her eyes closed at this point in the song, the emotion of the words trickling easily through her. Puck looked from her face to her strands of blue hair flowing around her and found that unidentifiable feeling was back again, uneasy and unwelcome.

_  
Stayed inside I was so upset  
I cooked up a plan so good except  
I was all alone you were all I had_

_  
_By the bridge, their voices were harmonizing and alternating perfectly, their respective objects of affection momentarily forgotten as they turned to each other.

_Love you  
You were all mine  
Love me  
I was yours right?  
I was yours right…_

_  
I was nineteen  
Call me  
I was nineteen  
Call me_

As the guitar soon followed their fading voices, the club stares at them. From a happily dumbstruck Finn and a proudly intrigued Mercedes to a mildly bothered Santana, they were all in awe.

It may not have been a mainstream power-ballad, but the feeling and intent was flowing so strongly behind each word sung that even Schue had joined the club as they stood and cheered. Quinn looked tearful as Artie clapped along on cue, a haunted frown frozen in place.

After seeing the thrilled grin that lights up Tina's entire face, he thinks back on what he was feeling in his truck the other day. He's not entirely sure what this emotion is yet, but he's pretty sure if he can't shake this soon he'll be in trouble.

In a breathless rush, she turns away from the applause and that smile is directed right at him, her eyes shining in a mix of excitement, achievement, and warm adoration. Before he can think, he's smiling right back.

_Crap._

_

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_**Again, reviews are love. :]** **Oh and before I forget, I kind of wanted to gauge what people wanted to see—this probably wont' change too much considering I have most of this written out, but I was interested to see who would be opposed or in favor of their friendship turning into a romance. Knowing me and my angsty writing, the road there won't be easy either way lol.**


	7. Every Night's Another Story

**Author's Note: Sorry it took longer than usual to get this chapter up. I'm taking the advice of trying to pace this story so no future drama seems too abrupt and whatnot. Thank you guys so much for all the feedback—I never expected so many people to respond so well to this! As for who ends up with whom, I appreciate the opinions and those who said they'd read and respect whichever direction I go in. I still have a pretty fair amount to go and keep in mind that while I like my angst, I also think that happy, slightly ambiguous endings are worth it if there's a realistic struggle to get there. Oh and you'll find out why Tina had her emofest in Puck's truck next chapter. Much love!**

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* * *

**_"They're all saying you're reckless  
From my perspective  
Don't be so sad  
You make me happy  
So you can't be that bad  
Just lift your head up  
You don't have to feel stuck  
Don't be so sad  
You make happy  
So you can't be that bad…"_

—Reckless – Akayzia Parker

* * *

_**Chapter 7: Every Night's Another Story**_

"This is stupid, Puck."

"I already told you we're not changing the channel."

Tina sighs, leaning her head back against the couch in annoyance.

"Now I know what Rachel meant when she said this is an insufferable waste of time and consumer funding," Tina grumbles, grabbing a few kernels of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table.

"If you're going to make a dig at me and the badassness that is American sports, can you at least use teenager words?"

"I just don't get what the point is," Tina replies honestly, laughing at his insulted expression while gesturing helplessly at the television. "We're watching grown men run around trying to get an orange ball into a hoop."

He glares at her, promptly reminding her that she owes him for when he clearly didn't understand the point of watching a certain slayer prance around and ponder which vampire she'd rather be with. She lets out a frustrated remark about how that is _not_ the same thing and he does little more than roll his eyes.

His sudden shout at the referee on television for a lame call just as soon turns into a laugh as Tina groans and covers her face with her hands. As she leans her forehead lightly against his shoulder, begging him to please save her sanity, he watches the strands of her hair drape around him.

He does his best to ignore the stirring in his chest.

It's the day after their performance and although neither will ever admit it, they're relieved their routine is, for the most part, undisturbed. She had waited for him as usual but with an underlining dread that he may not even show up at all. When it came down to it, they no longer had the excuse of being partners and he could easily drop the routine altogether. When he arrived in her driveway this morning he said nothing of it, so neither did she.

She ignores his current quip about how sports is an underappreciated art in girl-world and rolls her eyes.

"I don't care how many touchdowns they score," she murmurs, scooting backwards and tucking her feet beneath her. "They're still overpaid."

"Tina, this is _basketball_," he points out, smirking as he continues staring at the television. She takes her elbow from the armrest where it's lazily propped and leans back with her arms crossed, clearly unfazed.

"So?"

He rolls his eyes and fights an honest smile.

"Never mind."

The slamming of the front door interrupts them and Tina turns her head towards the kitchen. She rises from her place on the couch, lightly kicking Puck's legs off the coffee table to pass. When she reaches the hall by the front door and stairs, she looks back at Puck and smirks at how focused he is on the television in front of him.

"Tina!"

Sara's unmistakable screech is heard and in a flash Tina is crouching down to give her a quick hug before Sara's running away up the stairs, saying she couldn't play until she does her spelling. Tina laughs and turns back to the door to watch Puck's mother balance a few brown bags in her arms.

"Hi Ms. Puckerman," Tina greets with a smile, automatically reaching to help with the grocery bags.

"Uh-uh," Puck's mother chastises lightly, swinging the bags out of reach. "I told you before, dear—call me Debora."

Tina grins and apologizes, taking a couple bags and moves in the direction of the kitchen.

"Where's Noah?" his mother asks breathlessly, following behind Tina while swatting at a few stray curls and reaching up to readjust her dark bun.

Tina nods towards the living room behind her.

"I should've known. His hearing magically disappears when the game is on."

Tina's eyes crinkle in amusement as she helps sort out the groceries. She's a little amazed at how comfortable she's gotten with his family. She puts a few cans of soup into the cupboard and she tries not to be reminded of Artie and his family.

Puck's mother is soon asking about her day and how their performance went yesterday. She answers her questions contently, folding the paper bags and stacking them neatly with the rest in the pantry.

When she's finished, she finds herself leaning her elbows on the tiles of the counter, watching Puck yell at the TV again.

"I can't make it on Friday, but you're going, right dear?"

Tina turns a little startled, and gives an apologetic look to his mother.

"Noah's game. It's the last of the season. I'm afraid I'm working on Friday but I asked if you were going."

To be honest, she didn't even know there was a game. Being at the bottom of the food chain at McKinley automatically meant she never exactly jumped at the opportunity to spend her Friday night sitting in the fog to watch the popular girls cheer on a team of guys who won a lot less frequently than they threw slushies.

She watches his mother smile at her for a moment before responding.

"Um…"

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

Tina finds herself riding with Puck on his way to the game a few days later. She sighs, mentally cursing the unknowingly manipulative sweetness of his mother. With Artie keeping the cone of silence intact and Puck and Kurt both on the team, Tina didn't have any other plans tonight. She at least made sure Mercedes was going to support Kurt so she wouldn't be alone.

"What's the problem? I've always wanted my own personal cheerleader," Puck jokes, taking his eyes off the road for a second to tease her.

Even when she threatens his life, Puck keeps smirking at her. She's almost convinced he has been looking at her differently the past few days, but she soon decides she's just been imagining things.

After wishing him luck, flashing her student ID at the gate, and waving at a passing Brittany, Tina hops her way up the bleachers to meet Mercedes. They decide to take seats by Mr. Schue, Ms. Pillsbury, and Mr. Hummel. As they all watch Ms. Pillsbury furiously scrub down her seat with a handi wipe, Tina looks up to see a hesitant Quinn taking a seat on the bench beside her. She stares for a second—she's still getting used to Quinn not wearing her uniform, not to mention acknowledging them in public. Once the surprise wears off, Tina and Mercedes figure Quinn probably doesn't follow this sport much either and take comfort in the fact they have another friend to huddle together and laugh with when the cheerleaders misspell things now that Quinn isn't there to whip them into shape.

When a couple hours pass and she spots Puck sprinting towards the end of the field and the roaring crowd instantly on its feet—not to mention Kurt's dad yelling like a madman—Tina's pretty sure that's a good thing. She turns to Mercedes, who looks just as confused as she feels, and smiles.

Before she can even blink the buzzer signals the end of the game, a surprise win for McKinley. Amid the earsplitting cheers, a red and white figure is seen running past the cheerleaders to the railing just below the bleachers. Tina soon identifies the figure as Puck as he waves in the direction behind the bleachers. She turns to her friends and assures them she'll be right back. She makes her way towards the field quickly, not noticing Quinn's arched eyebrow and Mercedes' suggestive smirk in her wake.

* * *

Puck and Tina are leaning back on opposite sides of the bed of his truck, the victory of tonight still coursing through the air. She sits on her feet on the spread out blankets listening to the crickets chirp out a sonata and he's sipping back a few celebratory beers, a lazy arm hanging over the edge on the other side of the truck. Although she scrunches up her nose to decline his offer for one, she still giggles as he tosses an empty can at a nearby trashcan and misses, cursing a little at the night air.

They're still in the parking lot by the deserted football field, watching the forgotten stadium lights dance across the blades of grass and reflect off the silver bleachers. Although she had a brief question as to why he didn't go with the meatheads to party it up, she's never seen him this giddy so she doesn't vocalize her question, fearing it'll disappear. She may hate sports and she's pretty sure she's freezing to death, but she can't seem to help the smile growing on her own face.

On the sidelines of the field, she had pulled Kurt into a congratulatory hug. Quinn had already waved a quick goodbye as she met up with Finn. Mercedes began leading the way towards the parking lot, and it took the pair a few seconds to realize Tina hadn't been following.

"You coming, girl?"

"I promised Puck I'd wait for him here," she had replied quietly, biting her lip in anticipation of their response. She didn't even blink when they gave her those knowing looks of theirs. She simply looked back, daring them to say anything.

It was Kurt who spoke first.

"Is that safe?"

She laughed and insisted she'd be fine. Mercedes protested when Tina said she'd take a rain check on their sleepover plans, but she was grateful that Kurt didn't push it.

"Suit yourself, honey," Kurt said, adjusting the purple beret on her head and tucking a stray blue strand behind her ear. "If he gets frisky, I programmed my number as the first speed dial in your phone."

He looked back at Mercedes and nodded firmly.

"And remember to aim for the groin or the nose."

Tina rolled her eyes, but allowed her friends to reel her in for a goodbye hug.

* * *

Tina has her elbow propped up on the side of the truck. She's watching as Puck now lies flat on his back with a knee bended and a hand resting contently on his stomach. They haven't said much since the end of the game, but it doesn't seem to bother either of them.

Sometime during the last hour his head shifted into her lap with her hand idly tapping out a tune against his Mohawk. She continues to sit behind him with her feet calmly tucked beneath her, indulging his questions that grow increasingly slurred. She laughs a little when he tries to swat her hand away, accusing her of treating him like some pet. Her laughter only increases when he soon gives up the fight, pulling a little at her shoelace and regarding her with this pleased, boyish mirth.

"You were watching that last play, right Tee?"

Her breath suddenly catches in her throat and the hand on his head stills. She exhales a little and tries to shrug off the surprise. At first, she thinks his deviation from addressing her by her surname is what took her aback. Once the shock wears off, she finds herself bothered a little that she _isn't _bothered that Puck just called her a nickname that she usually reserves for Artie.

He's apparently aware of her unresponsiveness and she looks down to watch him tug more incessantly at her shoelace, a look of pouting annoyance furrowing his eyebrows. She witnesses him whine her name and soon her discomfort is being replaced by amusement yet again.

"Yes, Puck?" she coos, peering down at him patiently.

"You're not _listening_," he grumbles in a slur, letting go of her shoelace to gesture gracelessly upwards.

"Sorry, please continue," she urges, her look of mock seriousness soon crumbling as her mouth broke out into a wide grin. "You asked if I was watching?"

His anger seems fleeting because his expression soon relaxes, his eyelids a little hooded.

"Yeah," he laughs a little in remembrance, a hazy half-smile hanging on his face. "You were, right?" He peers up at her and soon lays back, satisfied with her happy nod. Her smile is sincere as she watches him grin up at the stars.

"That touchdown was legit," he sighs now, raising his arms and lacing his fingers together to rest behind his head. "It felt good to not suck at something. Like even if it was for a few seconds, I wasn't some Lima loser."

Her smile falters a little.

She never imagined she'd be in this position: having a guy she'd long since written off as a jerk lay here and make her rethink her previous assessments. She'd seen a look in his eyes tonight—when he'd ran up to meet her behind the bleachers, both of them forgetting themselves for a moment as he picked her up and twirled her while she laughed her praise into his shoulder. She knew then that it was that same feeling she got when she performed; that pure, undeniable look that says, _'I have something to believe in again.'_

She looks down again and something undefined seems to strike a chord; she has the sudden urge to do anything to bring back that hopeful smile. Although she doesn't know when this all shifted, when he stopped being this one-dimensional jerk, as she gazes down at his frowning face she decides to not dwell on that tonight.

"You're not a loser, Puck. Why would you say that?"

"That's what people expect of me," he grunts. "That's what I am to Quinn."

Her eyebrows furrow at that. She had her suspicions of something unrequited between them, but she never got around to asking him about it. Not that she's all that sure he'll tell her—or that she wants to know.

"Don't think like that, Puck," she whispers, poking him in the shoulder to make sure he's listening. "You're a good brother," she smiles, knowing that despite his gruff exterior, he'd do anything for Sara. "And your guitar skills are something to be envied. Plus, even though I had no idea what was going on, you played an amazing game tonight."

"I'm a badass?" he slurs, looking up at her in expectance, his face sincerely questioning. She does her best to bite back a laugh.

"You're a badass," she agrees with would-be seriousness, nodding in fervent confirmation.

She smiles again once he relaxes against her and makes a low sound she's assuming is either a laugh or a general sound of agreement. She resumes playing an imaginary piano against his hair and ponders where this feeling came from. Why did she have this desire to protect him, even if it's from his own criticism? When did the guy who used her friends for slushie target practice become someone she'd rush to defend?

She looks back down to find him staring up at her, curiosity reflecting from his hazel eyes.

"You're pretty."

He surprises a laugh out of her and although she's rolling her eyes, she finds herself covering up the small blush creeping up and heating her face.

"I think it's time to get you home, Puck."

"You hate fun."

The look of utter childishness on his face as he crosses his arms in contempt is almost too much for her.

"No," she reasons slowly, the laughter shaking her voice. "But I'd hate for your mother to kill us both if she sees you like this."

He makes a soft sound of agreement, too lazy to really argue with her.

She smiles a little and reaches up to readjust her beret before tugging the sleeves of her black hoodie past her wrists. She finds herself shivering and watching her breath come out in solid puffs as if just realizing how cold it really is. Although she's glad the snow has stopped for the past week, she figures they should probably leave before they both freeze.

Watching as he starts to hum to himself, it doesn't take her long to determine he's in no condition to drive them anywhere. Spotting his keys as he twirls a beer tab between his fingers, she tries to take decisive action. One look and it's as if he's reading her mind—he jumps up and snatches the keys before she can reach them, dangling them happily in front of her.

She resists the urge to kick him as she watches him slide away from her, jump down from the truck bed, and teeter on his feet for a few seconds before leaning against the side of the truck sluggishly.

"Puck…" she starts cautiously, thinking of how many movies she's seen that tell her this scene doesn't end well.

He starts to argue but she makes a quick decision. Scooting to the edge of the truck, allowing her legwarmer-clad legs to dangle, she moves towards him determinedly.

"Come here," she suggests softly, surprised at how easily her voice musters the sultry undertone. She vaguely thinks it has something to do with the fact he probably won't remember this tomorrow.

His eyebrow arches in surprise, but he follows her lead all the same, staggering forward. Tina eyes the keys and pulls him closer, swinging an arm up to rest around his shoulders.

This distraction seems to be working as he leans in clumsily towards her. She tries to damper her fleeting panic at his closing distance as he flashes her a lazy smile. She notices his grip slacken on his keys as his hand falls limp at his side.

She tries her best to ignore his leering expression while she tries to discreetly reach for the keychain. Her response, or lack there of, seems to satisfy him because his sloppy grin is back and his gaze keeps flickering between her eyes and her lips.

She reminds herself that he's drunk and doesn't know what he's doing.

Her breath hitches slightly and tries to redirect her focus back on her goal here. Just as he's leaning towards her, she bends downwards and seizes the keys from his grip. She starts to exhale a little in victory, but instantly freezes when she realizes that in their movement, his lips landed clumsily on her forehead.

Tina quickly ducks away from him, tucking her hair behind her ear. His attention span appears to be waning as he stumbles back against the door latch and picks up the beer tab again. She's shaking her head at him and soon she has his arm draped across her shoulders as she guides him to the passenger seat of his truck, ignoring his quips about Asian women and driving and not wanting to die young.

As she settles into the driver's seat with him leaning his head against the window, she tries to shake her nervousness over the fact that although she has her license, she's only driven without her parents a few times. She exhales once more, buckling her seatbelt after reaching over to buckle his, reminding herself that she was doing this for both their sakes—that a sober inexperienced driver was much better than one that couldn't even walk straight right now.

Tina shakes her head and starts the engine. She steps down on the pedal with her black Chucks, his mumbling slurs and forgotten lyrics serving as their stereo. While Tina tries not to think of what would've happened a few minutes ago if she hadn't ducked her head, she also ignores the burning in her cheeks.

* * *

They arrive at his house in one piece.

As they stumble up the driveway, with him leaning heavily against her and her shushing him, she muses that if it weren't her in this situation, she'd laugh. As soon as she opens the front door with his key, she stares at their next obstacle: the stairs. Almost knocking down a frame or two on their way up, they finally land on his bed in a heap.

As she jerks herself out of his grip and takes a seat at the foot of his bed, she stares at him reproachfully—he better thank her one day.

"Stay," he murmurs, tugging on her sleeve with his eyes closed. She smiles despite her exhaustion as his breathing starts to even out.

She just now notices it's almost 2 in the morning when her phone starts buzzing in her pocket.

She gingerly moves his hand from her wrist and he rolls away from her mumbling incoherently. When it rings again, the customized ringtone finally registers and she does a double take; it's been almost two months since she's heard it.

Why would he be calling her now, at 2 AM no less?

She quickly sits up and heads to the door. She turns around to lean against it, casting a cautious look back to make sure she hadn't woken Puck.

"Artie?" she whispers, hoping she doesn't sound too hopeful.

For a moment there was silence. If it wasn't this late, Tina would've thought that maybe he dialed her by accident. Then, there was a sigh.

She had pulled Puck's door closed behind her and slumped down to sit at the top of the stairs by the time he speaks.

"I really need to talk to you, Tee."

* * *

**I hope this made up for the wait. I figured I'd make this an extra long chapter, so hopefully it wasn't too uneventful lol. I don't remember how football seasons work and I didn't know if Kurt went back to the team after Mash-up or not so I hope that didn't bother anyone. I figured it's fic, so I might as well control the weather, too :p. Reviews are love!**


	8. Fear and Convenience

**Author's Note: So, I lied again. You'll find out next chapter about Tina. I started to include her POV in this chapter but I think this one belongs to Puck instead. Hope you guys don't mind me switching back and forth between their perspectives. My love for Tartie might just be restored if the writers correctly fix things during the back nine, so we'll see if I end up writing a separate fic for them, regardless how this one pans out, in case anyone is interested. Although there's a fair amount of the banter I love writing in this chapter, here's to welcoming the eventual angst :p  
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**_**Chapter 8: Fear and Convenience**_

Puck wakes up to a mild headache and a high-pitched shriek on Saturday morning.

His eyes flutter open against his will. Taking a minute to register the fact he's wearing his clothes from yesterday and that his little sister took the liberty of pulling the curtains open, he tries squeezing his eyes back shut and throwing the covers over his head.

He gets approximately 14 seconds of peace.

Feeling a tiny pair of feet bouncing atop his mattress, he flips onto his face before yanking a pillow over his head.

"Sara. It's 8 in the morning," he grumbles, his words coming out like an unintelligible whine. "Can you at least wait til 10 before going ape-shit?"

"_Ooh_, I'm telling mom you said that when she gets home!"

"Go ahead."

"Then you'll get in trouble!"

"Uh-huh."

"Then you can't answer your phone!"

"Friggin-fantastic."

"Not even when your _girlfriend_ calls…"

"What are you—?"

He jerks his head up from under the covers to find a giggling Sara dangling his vibrating cell phone in front of his face. Rolling his eyes, he grabs it and shoos her away before putting the phone to his ear without even having to check who's calling.

"I'm in the 5th circle of sleepless hell," he mumbles in lieu of a greeting.

He hears Tina's laughter before anything else.

"Is it bad I don't remember coming home last night?" he asks, grunting his surrender and sitting up to lean against the wooden headboard.

"Luck you. We got in around 2-ish."

"We?" he yawns before attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Yes, _we_. I'm pretty sure the memory of me dragging you up the stairs is permanently burned into my brain."

He laughs at the candid coolness of her tone, remembering when he met her freshman year, took one look at her clothes, then-red streaks and stutter and immediately had her pegged as one of those creepy chicks that cower in corners and practice passive-aggressive voodoo. He can only imagine what he would've said if someone told him he'd discover firsthand that she can actually be pretty blunt, approachable, and kickass all at once—and does not in fact stake vampire hearts for kicks.

As his gaze drifts across his room, he realizes his car keys aren't on their customary place on his desk.

"If I was that far gone then how did I…"

His eyes land on his keys sitting on his nightstand. Puck narrows his eyes before pulling the phone from his ear and staring at it in realization before putting it back to reply in disbelief.

"No fucking way…"

She stops him before he could go off on some full-fledge, manly tangent on 'wrecking his ride,' insisting she's a good driver and that he was far too busy with humming like a toddler to do much else.

She can practically see him scowling through the phone.

"Okay, so what's up with you calling right now? It's a little early for a booty-call—even for me."

She lets out that little sigh that tells him she's rolling her eyes right about now.

"I think I left my bag there…and I couldn't really sleep, and figured Sara would've woken you up by now," she rambles on in a quieter voice.

He ignores the bizarre impulse to ask her to elaborate.

"So it's there, right?" she asks, her voice an even calm. "Because I figured if neither of us have it, then some lucky Lima hobo now owns a very decorative pillow."

"Uh, yeah," he confirms with a lazy laugh, his gaze shifting to the decked out black messenger bag lying by his backpack. His eyes scan over a few of the pins and patches and he finds himself picturing how she looks when she laughs. He's beginning to think the skull and crossbones doesn't really suit her.

"What'd you do, hurl me at my bed and bounce?"

"Maybe."

"Hightailing it out of my room at 2 in the morning—you know how shady that sounds, right?"

He hears her exhale and laugh again and neither of them are exactly sure when this happens, but before long the plan is for her to stop by in a bit to retrieve it.

"You haven't rolled out of bed yet, have you?"

"Nope. What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Shut up, Puck."

"Way to be a killjoy, Cohen," he laughs, resting his head back and continuing his idle stare around his room. "Just come over whenever. You can watch Sara throw her usual bitch-fit over cartoons and cereal."

Although he can hear her laughter again, she soon pauses before speaking in that small voice of hers that's starting to tell him something's off.

"What else would I be doing on a Saturday morning?"

* * *

"You look like hell," Puck comments as he swings the door open, a towel reaching up to hastily dry his Mohawk.

To be honest, he doesn't really know why he says it; maybe the initial difference caught him off guard?

She's wearing some fitted grey hoodie and ripped jeans (he's beginning to think she doesn't own any of the torn-free variety). He can tell by the soft waves that she just washed her hair and she's wearing the least amount of makeup he's ever seen her. And the odd thing about it all is that if he was sure of anything right now, it's that she most definitely does _not_ look like hell. Not that he'd tell her that.

"Nice to see you, too."

Her remark is sarcastic but he sees the faintest of smiles developing.

"I get your constant need to be around me but seriously Cohen—it's been what, 7 hours?"

"You're the one counting, Puck," she replies softly, a small smile now present as she jabs him in the abdomen, effectively pushing past him to head towards the living room.

As he watches her greet an ever-ecstatic Sara, he notices the subtle red rim around her eyes and the smile that—despite its best efforts—doesn't seem to be reaching her eyes. He thinks about the quietness to her voice and recognizes the sadness in her hushed tone.

Tina notices his curious gaze once she straightens from turning the television on for his sister. She looks uneasy at best.

"I just didn't sleep very well," she says in a way to brush off his questions. "Got in late since I was busy hauling_ someone _up a flight of stairs."

He's not buying it, but plays along anyway.

"Vampire season keeping you up?"

She's laughing a little as she heads towards the kitchen.

"Werewolf, actually—you were close, though."

"Wait—so you walked home that late?" he asks in realization as he watches her pull a cereal box from his pantry.

"No, I waited to sneak out until the first beams of the breaking dawn punctured the sky," she replies flatly.

"Real cute."

He's leaning his elbows against the counter, regarding her with seriousness now.

"So you walked home alone in the middle of the night?"

She looks back at him from the refrigerator and finds herself surprised at the anger behind his words. "Real safe, Cohen."

"I was fine. It's Lima, Puck—I highly doubt our suburban population is large enough to have serial killers."

He watches Sara giggle along to a _Rugrats_ rerun and turns back to Tina, figuring this wasn't worth arguing over.

"Yeah, I guess it's no big. If I was out that late the first thing I'd run from is a Korean girl dressed in all black with razor blades hanging off her keychain."

Used to his teasing, she simply scoffs as she pulls open the utensil drawer. He watches her pull out two spoons and a fork and shakes his head. He doesn't know when facts like Tina is allergic to shellfish, the only utensils she'll ever use are forks and chopsticks, and her parents are gone every first and third weekend of the month became common knowledge to him. She once teased him about it, only for him to pass the comment off indifferently, informing her she'd probably die in her native country.

Her half-smile is back on her face, and it only takes his next comment to make it falter again.

"Why didn't you just crash here? Your parents aren't home."

He watches her pause awkwardly like that option just occurred to her. She arm freezes in the middle of grabbing bowls from the cupboard and suddenly all the banter and the sarcasm dissolves and the Timid!Tina he once knew is back.

"I, um…I just felt like being at home."

"Since when?" he asks with a scoff as he takes a seat at the table.

He can see her silently cursing how well he's gotten to know her. He studies her as she calls Sara over and distributes their cereal bowls. Sara skips back to the TV and Tina sits down at the seat across from him and begins poking at her food with her fork. A sudden thought occurs at her silence. "I didn't try anything, did I?"

He can already see her biting her bottom lip and her face flushing with uneasiness.

"No, no it's not like that, it's just—"

He watches her trail off and exhale quietly on the other side of the table and can't help but think she's trying to dance around the question. When she speaks again, skirting around it like he expected, he has the growing feeling that something else is wrong.

"I guess I just kinda hoped my parents would be home for once."

"Dude, you gotta be the only teenager I know who wants their parents around _more_."

"Lame, I know," she responds softly, tracing her fingers along the rim of her bowl.

She casts a grim smirk down at her cereal as he nods his agreement, and he can't stop himself from watching her. He sees the little frown she's making and knows the absentee-parent-thing isn't what's bugging her, at least not right now. He knows better by now than to ask her pointblank what's really wrong, but he can't help from wanting to anyway. For reasons he really doesn't understand.

He's not sure if it's the early stages of acute paranoia, but he suddenly gets doused with the sickening feeling that by the way she's acting he told her about Quinn and the baby.

"Uh, what did I say?" he blurts, and she looks up slightly alarmed from her bowl.

"What?"

"Last night after the game. When I was out of it."

She recovers a little and composes her shoulders, and he's starting to think he's not the only one who's paranoid.

"Not too much," she murmurs, looking at a spot on the ceiling as she recalls last night with a tiny smile. "I learned that your truck's name is Vera, you think I'm pretty, and that fortunately for me you can hold in your liquor."

"Oh. Must've been really out of it to think that."

She rolls her eyes as he attempts to come off nonchalant.

"So I didn't say anything that'd make me a total jackass. That's cool."

He tries to relax while she leans forward like she's the one studying him now. She's nibbling a little on her bottom lip as if deciding whether or not to speak.

"Quinn."

"What?" he sputters, looking up from his spoon and trying to not feel like he'd just swallowed a boulder.

"What's going on with you two?" she asks, and he's a little peeved at how steady and clear her voice sounds. Like she's merely some observant psychiatrist.

"Nothing. Did I say anything?"

"The fact that you're asking that just makes you look more suspicious, Puck."

He glares.

"I should be the one questioning you, you're the one acting all creepy and cryptic."

"Aw, congratulations! Noah learned a new word."

He flips her off and she laughs.

"You just said she thinks you're a loser, but I think you're wrong. The way she was looking at you during our performance…"

His eyebrows furrow in confusion and he's actually scared to know what she has to say on the matter.

"Well, that's not exactly how you'd look at a loser."

She flashes him a sad smile and he's not really sure what that means.

* * *

A couple hours or so later and they're flopped on the couch watching Sara continue to giggle at whatever cartoon is on. Tina's been eyeing the clock for the past 20 minutes and before he knows it she's rising from the couch, announcing she should get going.

Tina's eyes sparkle in amusement when Sara begs her to stay for a rerun of _Doug_ as she picks up her book bag from under the table, slinging it over her shoulder and fixing Puck with a look.

"Don't look so broody, Puck. I'm supposed to be the Goth, remember?"

He feels like he should be smirking at the irony as she affectionately ruffles his sister's hair on her way to the door.

Unable to shake this weird feeling from the pit of his stomach, he follows her to the hallway.

"Puck?" she asks, her hair twirling around her as she turns, a small nervous laugh escaping her lips. "I told you I don't need a ride, I'm fine…"

She blinks a few times, just realizing how close they were standing. The floorboards creak a little as they stand there in silence.

"Tina!"

They both jump a little as Sara comes skipping in from the living room. Puck ducks his head and Tina leans back against oval glass of the window carved in the middle of the wooden door.

"You forgot your phone. A funny boy-name keeps popping up."

Tina thanks Sara and casts a sideways glance in Puck's direction. It feels a little like guilt. Normally he'd tease her, call her out, or pick a fight but she looks like if he says anything of the sort she'll be out the door. Although he's not sure what he wants, he's pretty sure it's not that. His hands are in his pockets as the feeling in his stomach intensifies in realization.

"Abrams?"

Her face gives it away.

"Oh. I didn't know you two were talking again," he mumbles and she realizes he just reflexively took a couple steps back from her.

"Sort of. I don't know," she breathes quickly and quietly as she combs her distracted fingers back through her hair, wondering why she felt the need to feel nervous about this in front of Puck. "He called last night when you fell asleep, but I didn't wanna have that conversation over the phone. I said we could meet up instead."

"Cool," he grunts, trying to ignore the feeling as if he just swallowed another boulder or two. "That's what you were pouting for, right?"

He couldn't shake the feeling that he was unconsciously asking her if this is what she wanted. He also couldn't stop the horrible feeling of being on some sick and twisted autopilot as he asks her that.

"Yeah," she says as she nods along, her tone tense. "You look like you wanted to say something…?"

She's responding in that quiet voice again and that studious look is back on her face. He almost wants to tell her anything to make it go away.

"Nah, it doesn't matter."

"You sure?"

He watches her black nails fiddle with the doorknob and although he can't explain it, he feels this anger start to bubble up and rise from his chest. His jaw clenches and his teeth grind as he watches her watch him with that irritatingly innocent face on.

"Just go. Can't keep him waiting."

* * *

When Puck's mother gets home, the first thing she sees is Sara on the couch with her arms crossed, tiny eyebrows furrowed, and lips in a pout. Before she can get two feet near her she's deafened by the sounds of a guitar booming from upstairs.

By the time she's trekked up the stairs and is reaching for his doorknob, she's a little apprehensive. She's only seen him like this a few times—once after his father left and another time a few months ago when all he'd mutter at her then were garbled words about Finn and Quinn. She knows he hates being asked questions but his extra clipped answers never succeed in dampening her concern.

When he notices her in his doorway, he's already tossed his guitar on his bed and began pacing about his room.

"Where's Tina?"

She sees his shoulders visibly tense and she realizes she just asked the wrong thing.

"Not here."

"Sara says she came over this morning?"

"Well, she's not here now," he all but spits, turning to face her for the first time. "Probably already patched things up with her little boyfriend."

He grunts out the last bit, tossing his guitar pick back on his bed and slumping to sit at the foot of it in frustration. He instantly regrets looking up when he's met with the knowing gaze of his mother.

"Oh, Noah…"

Puck recognizes the trickling sweet patronization of her tone and glares—as if he didn't feel enough like a pansy. His eyes drop back to the floor, exasperated at her look, exasperated with his own damn feelings.

He exhales, rubbing a tired hand down his face.

"I know, Mom."

* * *

**Reviews are love! Thank you to whoever told me that the song "Hell" by Tegan and Sara reminds them of this fic. I can't stop listening to it now :]  
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	9. A New, Improved Modern Way To Feel

**Author's Note: FYI, this chapter is, by far, **_**much **_**more dramatic than any of the other chapters and most of it is Tina's POV. I feel like I was taking a chance in posting this, so I hope it turned out all right. You guys have left some really sweet reviews and I can't thank you enough :]  
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* * *

**_**Chapter 9: A New Improved Modern Way To Feel**_

Tina is halfway to Artie's house when she stops walking, eyebrows furrowed and an idle hand tugging at the drawstring of her hoodie.

She thinks how surreal it seems that after waiting for weeks to hear from him, he suddenly wants to meet up. She knows she should be thrilled her estranged best friend finally wants to talk things through, but she really doesn't understand what brought about this call. To be honest, no matter how much it hurt, she had grown accustomed to avoiding him as much as he avoided her.

The last she had remotely heard from Artie had been that Friday she had practically attacked Puck. After Schue's announcement, she had zoned out and looked up in alarm, realizing they were the only two left in the room. Mostly wishing to flee the premises before he realized that too, he had wheeled up to her before she could reach the door. For a brief moment she considered running away anyway seeing as how he probably couldn't catch up to her if she did so, but she dismissed that horrible thought almost immediately.

She remembers the awkward staring contest they shared before he spoke. When he did, it only made the churning in her stomach worse.

He pointblank asked her in his soft and inquisitive Artie-voice if it was true she was dating Puck.

Too stunned to move, she quietly mumbled that they're just friends, trying to break the trance his blue eyes always seemed to reel her into. She failed. He was the one who broke eye contact to stare at the floor a little before looking back up at her. She nearly staggered backwards into the door when his frown had turned into a knowing smirk.

"I'm pretty sure it's statistically proven that no girl can ever be 'just friends' with Puck."

She's pretty sure he meant that as a joke, and maybe in a past life she would've been laughing along to it, but she couldn't help the little bout of anger surging past her abdomen. He recognizes that look and sighs, his wry little smile dropping into a frown.

"He's not a good guy, Tee."

She wants to react in many different ways—to glare, to cry, to agree, to laugh, to walk away, to push him backwards, to defend Puck, to yell at him for abandoning her and their friendship or whatever they could've had because honestly, what right does he have after deserting her, ignoring her, then attempting to have a say in who she hangs out with?

Before she could really do little more than sputter at him, he was wheeling past her and out the door. Confused, hurt, and more than a little angry over the fact after two months that's what he chooses to break the silence with, she had stood there staring at the doorknob until Puck had trudged back into the choir room after her.

"Uh, you coming or what?"

She had nodded dumbly at him, somberly following him to his truck. All she could think about was how awkward singing to Artie would be on that coming Monday. By the time Puck had gotten back from the 7-Eleven, that thought was replaced by pondering Artie's words and that frown and those frustratingly, strikingly pensive eyes that always got to her.

She doesn't know what exactly caused her to launch herself at Puck the way she had, but something in her didn't regret it or the way she felt a little safer once she had. She felt a little bad for Puck and his banter and his smirk and the way she'd thrown him for a loop. She hadn't meant to, yet there she was crying for the part of her that missed Artie, for the part of her that wished her mother wasn't too busy to talk to her, and for the scared little piece of her that told her Noah Puckerman was good.

The conversation last night had been brief and she fought the urge to wake Puck up if only so she wouldn't feel so alone. Without really thinking, she had risen from the stairwell and numbly descended it. By the time she was ambling down his driveway and watching her breath join the night air, she felt like crying again—because in all honesty, she didn't know what else to do.

She had felt Puck staring at her as she poked at her Lucky Charms this morning. For the most part, she had kept her mouth shut but found herself conflicted—she didn't understand why she felt so bothered keeping things from him. After all, he's Puck. He doesn't care about that stuff, right?

What she now finds to be the oddest thing, though, is the slight nagging voice in her head. She is already halfway to the boy who she spent the last couple years centering her world around and here she is sitting down at the edge of some random sidewalk, trying to decipher this voice that's telling her to turn around and head back to Puck.

Why would she do that?

She thinks of how quiet he got when she mentioned Artie, which she initially assumed came from his general dislike for him. She thinks of Puck and the way he looked at her before she left. She finds herself thinking of him calling her Tee, thinking of the way he laughed when she would tease him back, and thinking of the endearingly embarrassed scowl-covered-look that appears on his face when his mother asks her at the dinner table if she would please do her the favor of marrying her son.

She thinks of what might've happened if she hadn't moved when she was trying to snatch his keys away. She thinks of that vulnerable look in his eyes when she agreed that talking to Artie was what she had wanted all along.

Shaking her head, disbelieving what she was about to do, she pulls out her phone.

She hates to do this, but another part of her decides it's _her _right—if Artie's going to ignore her for a month or two, then she can decide for herself when she deems herself ready to talk to him.

* * *

And after all that, Tina can't figure out what she did wrong.

She ends up walking to school alone Monday morning, running late because she had waited for Puck as usual and he didn't show. She had gotten ready early, eager to see him and stood waiting at her kitchen window, anxiously tugging at strands of her hair. This resulted in her waiting for a good half-hour before tying her hair up into a haphazard ponytail and staring at her phone reproachfully; he had neglected to answer any of her calls or texts as well.

So lost in thought by the time she reaches the school, she doesn't notice Artie watching her from his position in front of his locker. He looks like he's ready to say something, but before he can wheel forward, she passes quickly and next thing he knows, he's already lost her in the crowd.

She finds Puck at his locker, throwing books and scowling plenty.

"I waited for you this morning. Why didn't you show?"

He's not looking at her but she takes his hand pausing in midair for a few seconds and his sudden intake of breath as recognition of her presence.

"Had shit to do."

She opens her mouth but pauses for a few seconds before speaking, trying to figure out if he's joking or not.

"I was going to tell you about the other day. About what I realized."

Puck's eyes shift ever so slightly in her direction and he notices the hopeful sheen lighting up her eyes. He flicks his gaze back to his locker as his eyebrows furrow; he had to rid himself of those eyes and his feelings if this front is even going to work.

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion as he returns to throwing things into his locker, as if she wasn't there. Even a month ago this would've been normal, but lately she noticed that whenever they spoke, he looked her in the eye. He wasn't doing that now.

"I—what's up with you? Are you even listening?"

He throws in another unopened textbook.

"If this is about your name again I might just kill you," she tries at a joke, still not knowing whether she should be smiling or not, still unsure if he's feigning disinterest or not. She moves to poke his shoulder in jest, as she's done a few times when he's being sarcastic, and her smile drops when he brushes away from her touch.

"If you're mad about me not telling you Artie called, I can explain—"

This seems to strike a chord and she unconsciously flinches as he slams his locker shut to face her.

"Don't bother," he says, his voice so casual she actually wishes he'd show some rage. "And listen to you gush about your talk with Abrams?"

He sneers in a way she hasn't seen directed at her in what feels like forever and she takes back her last wish.

"Newsflash, Cohen—I don't give a shit."

He does a pretty good job at pretending he doesn't notice her inhale sharply is if he had slapped her. She silently stares a little at his shoes before meeting his gaze again. _If she had fixed things with Abrams, why was she standing here now? _He tried to remind himself that he didn't care.

"What the hell is your problem, Puck? Why are you being like this?"

He surprised even himself as he put on a show of releasing some sardonic laugh.

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"A jerk."

"I think you have me confused with one of your little girlfriends—if you haven't noticed, that's how I am with everybody."

"Not with me."

He fixes her with a look and she falters, unsure of their friendship for the first time in weeks. "Not anymore," she continues softly.

"Yeah, well…"

He slings his bag over his shoulder and strides past her and he hears her release the breath she's been holding.

"I don't know what the hell I did to you, Puck," she speaks, her voice dangerously low. He stops walking but refuses to turn around. "So when you're done being an asshole, will you let me know?"

Her tone is the most aggressive he's ever heard her, but he can sense the hurt confusion trembling behind her words.

It's her turn to brush past him as she rushes down the hall to her first period.

He watches her go in silence, trying to convince himself he's doing the right thing.

* * *

Puck finds himself walking in late to Glee that day, still half-debating whether to just ditch it altogether.

When he reaches the room he halts a little as bits of the conversation inside floats out into the hallway.

"Yo guys, where is she? You think they would've found her by now…"

"Maybe she just skipped out today?"

"Yeah, she looked pretty out of it when I saw her earlier."

"I dunno guys, she's come to Glee upset before."

"That's a good point," came the steady voice of Rachel to interject the distinctive conversation of Matt, Mike, and Finn. "But it is highly unlike her nature to miss practice. With that being said, maybe she's with Noah? They have been spending an awful amount of time together."

Thoroughly confused, Puck chooses this moment to walk in. They all turn to him with deer-in-the-headlight looks. Since she seems to be the person who recovers first, it's Santana who breaks the silence.

"There goes _that_ theory…"

Rachel ignores her, moving towards Puck.

"She's not with you?"

"Dude, what are you guys talking about?"

"Tina," Rachel snaps, like she needs him to keep up.

Most of them are thinking it, but it had been Matt who vocalized the concern over Tina's unknown whereabouts. They catch Puck up on the details, saying it had been 20 minutes after school and Kurt and Mercedes had volunteered to go look for her, pushing past Schue before he could suggest otherwise.

For the most part, Puck's expression remained unfazed.

"What? You want me to rally up some search party?"

He wants to kick something when he sees their offended faces, but he's staying with the firm resolution that he doesn't care. He _can't_ care.

Silently slumping into the empty seat next to Mike, Puck searches his brain, unwillingly to believe she'd ditch practice because of how things went down between them this morning. Last he knew, she had said she was going to talk to Artie on Saturday. Scanning the room, he spots Artie staring at the floor. She never missed practice—not that Puck really notices these things. Because he doesn't care. He had immediately thought of Artie because really—she wouldn't miss rehearsal because of _him_ right?

"What the fuck did you do?"

Puck nods towards Artie, not really caring this is probably irrational; the words are out of his mouth before he realizes it.

Mike, who is sitting between Puck and Santana and is in Puck's range of view, immediately drops his cell phone into his lap as his hands come up in defense.

"I was just texting my mom, I swear."

Rolling his eyes, he waves him off.

"Not you, Chang—Abrams."

Artie jerks his gaze from the floor, immediately alarmed at Puck's sudden attention.

"Didn't you talk to her this weekend?"

Artie stares.

"Um…no. She called and canceled, said her mom needed her home," Artie responds slowly and evenly, glancing uneasily towards their audience while trying to gather a sense of where Puck is going with this. "But I don't see how any of that is your business."

Before anyone could react little more than stare confusedly back and forth between the two of them, Kurt and Mercedes come barging in, making a beeline for Kurt's man-bag. Kurt's grabbing what seems to be a makeup bag, arguing with Mercedes, who's pulling tissues out of her purse.

They seem to notice the eyes on them, so they stop mid-sentence and face their friends.

"Girl emergency. We just saw Tina getting corned by the jock jerks again," Kurt announces to the group before promptly turning to Will. "We'll be in the ladies' room fishing her messenger bag out of the toilet bowl," he ends sharply, nodding to nobody in particular and turning to head out promptly the way he came.

Rachel immediately jumps up offering her assistance, while Artie quietly asks if she's okay.

Puck didn't realize he was pushing past them all until his feet passed the piano—so much for firm resolutions.

It's obvious the other kids in Glee are torn at what to think. None of them are pretending they haven't noticed this thing that's developed between them—except maybe Brittany who is blissfully and generally unaware—but they're also not going to pretend they didn't notice the tension between them this morning and Puck's refusal to care not even 5 minutes ago. Not to mention their disrupted routine of sitting against the lockers on the nearly deserted second floor during lunch considering today Puck sat with the jocks and Tina hadn't even bothered walking into the cafeteria.

He's pretty sure they're currently wondering why he cares in the first place—and hell, he wonders the same thing too, considering he used to be the one throwing slushies. Not to mention he's pretty much breaking his internal vow to stay clear of her. His steely expression dares anyone to vocalize even a smidgen of their confusion, so naturally they keep their opinions silent until he's out the door. Hearing the gossip burst before he's even a foot from the outer doorknob, he almost laughs at the typicality of it all.

He moves ahead with a swift blindness until he's stopped by the voice of Mercedes in front of his destination.

"That's the girls' bathroom, Puck."

"Thanks for the fun-fact—now _move_."

Shoving the door open, it takes less like a second to realize she isn't in there.

"Well that sure was anticlimactic, wasn't it?" Kurt comments, a haughty smirk taking over his features as he crosses his arms and studies Puck.

"I thought you said you found her in here."

Mercedes moves in front of Kurt, an obviously reserved attitude directed warily towards Puck.

"We found her in the hallway after she got slushied and we told her to meet us in here."

"You left her alone?"

Puck's grumbling to himself, again pushing past the pair of them. He knows the hazing rituals but he doesn't have a good feeling about this at all; if he's s right about this, he knows where he'll find Tina.

* * *

"Looks like she can talk properly after all, gentlemen."

"Don't touch me, Karofsky," Tina seethes in a low voice, shoving away the hands that are reaching for her, her back making contact with the cool metal of the dumpster.

"Feisty," he sneers, seizing one her wrists and giving it an aggressive squeeze.

The view of a cornered Tina soon came into sight, her drenched hair sticking to her face that's flushed with apprehensive anger. As she begins to struggle against her hands being pinned at her sides by Karofsky while the others jeer along, Puck wishes he'd been wrong.

He hears a pair of angered gasps behind him, and acts swiftly.

"Get Schue," he orders in a low voice. Kurt and Mercedes both freeze and open their mouths to protest leaving their friend. He hears her shriek as Karofsky's hand caresses her hip. "_Now_," he hisses. Neither of them are ready to disagree with helping her or arguing with that threatening gaze, so they both rush back into the building.

Puck turns back from the double doors to the sight in front of him. He quickly exhales an angered breath and strides into view.

"Oh hey, Puckerman, you came just in time for the show."

Tina turns at that. She almost immediately feels relief wash over her, only for the feeling to be replaced by white-hot uncertainty—she knows there's something between them, but when she thinks of this morning and his dismissal and being pushed aside—she's afraid he won't stand up to Karofsky. She knows Karofsky is as much as a scared little girl as people think _she_ is and that he's most likely bluffing and having his twisted show of fun—that the most he'll do is toss her amongst the garbage bags, but she can't help the powerless fret she feels anyway.

Puck doesn't respond. Instead his gaze remains on Tina as he steps forward. She finds herself relieved that his hushed tone doesn't exactly fit the menacing look on his face.

"You okay?"

She tries to calm down her breathing to nod, but Karofsky's hand secured around her hip makes her reluctant to move, reluctant to breathe. Karofsky looks between the two of them, chuckling a little in realization.

"Oh this is too good," he comments for the benefit of his followers. "Hey guys—looks like somebody's gone and got himself a freaky little girlfriend."

He turns towards Puck with a sick smile that Puck wants nothing more than to punch off his face.

"Maybe you wouldn't mind fishing this little piece of trash out of the dumpster then?"

Puck clenches his fists as Karofsky takes a step closer to Tina. "Or maybe you'd just like to watch…"

Tina's stomach is swimming with knots as she feels the hand now along her thigh lowering, creeping tauntingly towards the hem of her skirt. She sucks on her bottom lip, willing herself not to gasp or cry or scream or give him any satisfaction with a response. She does, however, notice that his grip on her right wrist is gradually slackening as Puck's presence alone serves as a distraction. Tina looks questioningly back at Puck; his breathing was ragged and she could tell he's one step away from launching at Karofsky himself, but his eyes are steady as his head nods ever so slightly. Tina doesn't exactly get how, but she seems to understand his silent cue.

She inhales quickly, praying for strength.

"_Hey meathead."_

Karofsky smirks at the sound of her voice and turns just in time to feel a fist connect with his nose. He staggers backwards, gasping in pain and shock. Tina exhales the breath she didn't realize she was holding, thankful she put on her thickest metal rings this morning.

"You've got to be kidding—" Karofsky advances as the others look on in a sick version of awe.

Tina reflexively squeezes her eyes shut as she feels him reaching for her. In an instant, the offensive hand is gone and she feels herself being knocked to the ground as the sound of a scuffle and a few curse words filter in and out of her ears. She doesn't move or open her eyes.

And although it feels like forever, in an instant voice is breaking through, making the whole lot of them turn around.

"Karofsky!"

Tina wills herself to squint her eyes open at that. It was Mr. Schuester.

"I think Figgins would like to see you in his office," his tone deadly even, causing silence to wash over the group. "Bring your friends with you."

The group hesitates, looking as if they were debating running or not. The look on his face is enough to tell them this isn't some lighthearted suggestion up for debate. Like Puck's, Mr. Schue's face was set like stone and his eyes were livid; Tina doesn't think she ever saw him that angry before—even when it came to Sue-sabotage—and although she's sprawled on the ground and her sticky hair reeks of artificial watermelon, she can't help but feel grateful.

"_Now!"_

Puck hastily clambers to stand, watching Schue usher the others inside while fixing Puck with a pointed look before entering the building. Adrenaline still coursing heavily through his veins as he watches Tina push herself to her feet in silence, Puck isn't sure what to say; he watches as some of her long strands filtered into her face and he finds himself reaching forward to move them behind her ear, but as he moves towards her she shies away from his touch on reflex. His brain catches up to his arm a split second later, and his hand freezes awkwardly in midair.

His mind is reeling and he can't help the slight stinging in his chest from that.

He barely has time to ask her if she's all right before Kurt and Mercedes charge at her. A chorus of apologies soars from the pair as they both swoop in and envelop her in a crushing hug. Before Tina can do little more than mutter a few reassurances that she is fine and cast an unreadable look back in Puck's direction, her two friends are rushing her back into the building.

Watching them go, Puck stands there alone, calming his breathing. As he leans against the nearby wall, already feeling the ghost of a bruise forming above his eye, he's left to wonder what this all really means.

* * *

**Reviews are love! Please be gentle -_- ****I'll probably get the next one up today, too if I don't get that much of a horrible or lack in response from this chapter lol. I swear the next will be more lighthearted than this one. Maybe. :p **


	10. Say It Like You Mean It

**Author's Note: Sorry. I think I uploaded the wrong file at first. How embarrassing lol. Again, thank you guys so much for the feedback. I was unsure about the last chapter but I'm glad you guys are behind it—it means a lot!**

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**_**Chapter 10: Say It Like You Mean It**_

"Thanks for coming in."

It's two days later and Tina finds herself walking into Schue's office. Her normally cool and collected mother, with her short dark waves flying and her green eyes set in determination, had barged into Figgin's office yesterday morning, fuming and ready to fight whoever got in her way. Although Tina probably won't admit it, she's comforted by her mother's presence; both her parents are wonderful, they just aren't around enough to count on. As she sat there stock-still in her seat, answering their questions quietly, she watched her mother turn towards with warm eyes and thought of Puck asking if she was okay; she never felt so cared for in her life.

As she obliges Schue's gesture to take a seat, though, she feels her wary self resurface.

"I've noticed things haven't been all that easy for you lately," Schue began gently, sitting while resting his forearms on his desk and lacing his fingers together in thought. "I know it's not my place, but I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

Tina relaxes a little and manages a small smile of appreciation. She really is grateful for his concern, but she honestly doesn't know how to answer that. _I'm fine? I'm not? I think I might be going insane?_

Will takes one look at her mouth hanging open in a sheer loss of what to say, and he chuckles a little.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it. Just know my door's open if you need to vent—Ms. Pillsbury, too. She's better at this than I am."

Tina grins a little at how his voice gets pitchy and his eyes downcast when he mentions her name. She begins to stand cautiously, not wanting to be impolite but assuming that's all he has to say.

"Thank you, Mr. Schue."

"For what?" he asks, standing and looking like he missed a step.

She begins to speak, but then falters awkwardly.

"Oh," he replies, nodding in realization. "It's my job to protect my students."

She nods too, looking down, and he realizes how that must have sounded.

"I care about each and every one of you," he continues, placing a hand on her shoulder to get her to look up at him. "You have no idea how furious I was when I saw…"

He stops for a moment, shaking his head. Understanding without wanting him to go into detail, she nods with a tightlipped smile.

"Luckily Figgins finally did the right thing and suspended them. From what I've heard, you got yourself one determined mother," he adds with a chuckle, half-leaning, half-sitting against his desk as he regards her and the small laugh and nod she gives in agreement. His arms cross and his grin gives way to a more a serious expression.

"I'm just glad your friends got there when they did," he continues, a sincere glimmer lighting up his eyes. "You know, I know how things can be in high school and how this club was when it started—it was tantrums left and right—even when it was just the five of you."

She laughs at that.

"I'm just glad that you guys have each others' backs when I'm not around. I mean, I thought the Rachel-dating-Puck thing was unusual but I've never seen him act like…"

He notices her looking down again, biting her bottom lip.

"Sorry," he chuckles, putting his hands up a little in mock defense. "Like I said, not my place."

She smirks a little and nods, picking up the strap of her bag, preparing to leave again.

"Actually Tina, that's not the only reason I called you in here. After the diva-off last month and your performance with Puck the other week I got to thinking."

She stares at him, mildly afraid of what he was going to say next.

"How would you feel about another solo?"

Her eyes widen in surprise and once he begins talking specifics, he's glad the smile on her face is gradually stretching into something more genuine. She's turning to finally leave when he speaks again.

"I'm really proud of you, Tina."

When she turns around she notices he has the same knowing look from when he spotted her alone after a rehearsal last month, casually asking how her speech therapy was going and curious as to why she wasn't pushing Artie around anymore. She thought telling Artie the truth about her fake stutter was difficult, but she found telling Mr. Schue was even worse. She remembered that proud, encouraging gleam in his eyes when she was singing her "Tonight" solo. She watched it disintegrate in front her then and she tried to swallow the guilt entirely.

He had been disappointed in her, but true to his character, he accepted that she was a scared kid trying to protect herself. He had told her that being yourself can be the scariest thing in the world, especially when you're a teenager and not only can others be cruel, but you also have no idea what 'being yourself' truly means yet. He was glad that she told him the truth personally, and said that he's proud to see her opening up to other people. Forgetting how uneasy she felt, she was overcome with gratitude and hugged him.

"Thanks, Mr. Schuester," she replies softly now before heading out the door.

She had walked into his office feeling uneasy and walked out with a solo. She's not sure if she feels better or not, but she's relieved to know that the world hasn't completely turned on its axis. Maybe there was hope for her and this mess she calls her feelings after all.

She sighs a little, though, thinking of Puck and how he's been avoiding her for the past few days. She felt awful for recoiling when he tried to reach out to her and had continued to wait for him in the morning. She'd stand there until her mother, now preferring to run late to work than to let her daughter walk alone, would usher her into her mini cooper, flashing her an apologetic smile and insisting they both were going to be late.

Feeling a sudden sense of empowerment wash over her now, Tina finds herself heading toward the lockers.

* * *

Puck can't figure out what to do right.

No matter what he does, his brain can't shake the image of Tina being shoved up against that dumpster, flinching when he tries to touch her. He hadn't really seen much of her since then; her mother came to the school yesterday to raise hell and although he's glad she has someone to have her back when she really needs her, he feels a little relieved—and guilty—that he didn't have to face her himself just yet.

He knows he's a prick and has done a lot of things to keep himself that way. He has his share of bullied victims and selfish conquests, but he's never dream of stooping to Karofsky's level, he never thought of tossing a girl into a dumpster—granted, he's thrown his fair share of slushies at girls and he's definitely not the picture of a gentleman, but even he has his limits. Regardless, he couldn't shake the feeling that he might as well as _be_ Karofsky; nothing good would ever come from this strange _thing _he'd somehow developed with her. He's already tired of the age-old gossip wafting through the halls and he realizes that he can't force himself to _not_ care—no matter how determined he is.

And yet, he didn't have the courage to face her anyway.

_When did he become such a wuss?_

He finds himself afterschool, carelessly emptying the contents of his bag into his locker. Glee didn't have any rehearsal today and the only period they both share is math—which he never attends anyway—so he's guaranteed full Tina-avoidance for the time being.

"Puck?"

Maybe he spoke too soon.

He turns slightly to find her standing there, arms crossed and resting against the front of her magenta cardigan, her face set with quiet determination.

"Why didn't you show again? I thought that—"

"It's cool, Cohen," he cut her off, simply hoisting his bag over his shoulder and walking around her. "I was there. I get why you wouldn't wanna be around me."

She watches him trudge down the hall, blinking as she thinks of that hurt look on his face yesterday and realizes something. She knows she shouldn't have backed away from him the way she had. She also knows that not too long ago she would've been the one deeming him horrible but it feels like forever ago that she felt that way. Ever since they became friends, she no longer classified him as one of the Karofsky-esque jerks that were dime a dozen at Mckinley. She didn't think he would either.

"You're not him, Puck," she says, the soft words flying out of her mouth before she realizes it.

"Is that so?" he calls out in a brisk voice. She noticed him pausing a little but before long he's chuckling humorlessly to himself, tossing a hand hastily in the air, as if that proves his indifference.

"You're wrong," she tries, her voice getting a little throaty, but the distance between them keeps on increasing. She lets out an exasperated sigh and rakes her fingers through her streaked hair. Watching him walk stubbornly away, the fleeting guilt is soon replaced with something else entirely.

"Puck, you're a manwhore."

That one stops him dead in his tracks—he really wasn't expecting that.

"You can be the biggest jerk around—I mean you've honestly made a recreational sport out of locking people in port-a-potties."

She pauses to breathe and he takes that moment to find his voice.

"Seriously?"

By now he had turned around to stare at her as she speaks like she's tacking off a list. He really might've laughed if her voice didn't sound so imposing. So instead he stands there frozen, his mouth slightly open and vaguely thankful the hall is empty.

"You throw slushies at people—"

"Are you even arguing with me?"

"Catapult people into dumpsters—"

"You'd make one shitty defense attorney."

"But whether you realize it or not, you're _one _of us," she finally takes a breath, her fervent demeanor both impressing and scaring him into silence. "And I know you would never do what Karofsky tried to…"

Her voice falters a little, but she exhales and keeps going. "Well, you'd never do that to me—to any of the girls."

Puck just realizes how close she has gotten during her little tirade and doesn't know how to respond, so he say the first thing that comes to mind again: "Karofsky's a tool."

The comment is enough to stop and surprise a laugh out of her, and in a flash she has her armwarmer-clad arms snaking around his back and her head is resting against his chest. Before he registers what's happening, she's already pulling away.

"Thank you," she says, her calmer voice barely above a whisper.

He recovers enough to respond, realizing he had left a hand gently gripping her arm.

"If you think about it, I didn't do squat. You're the one with the badass right hook, remember?" he replies, silently grateful his voice masks how unbalanced he really feels.

"Says the boy with the shiner above his eye."

"Shiner? Are you like from the 50s now?"

She laughs again, allowing him to tuck a blue strand behind her ear. Her smile easily lights up her entire face. She looks at Puck and her stomach is doing flips again—this time, for another reason entirely.

He stands there shoving his hands back in his pockets, unsure what to do now. No matter how many girls he's been with, Puck isn't used to this; he never really receives appreciation from anyone—mainly because he never does anything people are grateful for. On top of that, he's never really had a friend or relationship or whatever-this-is that's of the female persuasion—_friends-with-benefits totally count, right? _Nor had he ever been a great friend to begin with—_Exhibit A: the pregnant Quinn Fabray._ So all in all, he didn't have the faintest idea what he's doing.

Tina doesn't seem to mind, though, because before he knows it she's rolling her eyes and pulling him towards his truck, asking if he'd rather watch _Friday the 13__th_ or _The Shining_ tonight. Before they get very far, his phone begins buzzing in the pocket of his jeans. Mainly since Tina is smiling at him constantly, as if he'll disappear at any moment if she looks away just once, he ignores it.

Her mood seems to be tremendously higher today, because she even offers to run to the store across the plaza from the station to load up on the necessary junk food items while he pumps his gas. He faintly remembers making a sexist joke and receiving a jab in the shoulder for it, but he can't be certain.

Laughing a little to himself as he watches her basically dance her way across the parking lot in her too-big combat boots, his phone vibrates once more. Reaching into his pocket to fetch his cell, he flips it open to the first message.

_u wanna tell her ur dirty little secret or should i?_

—_Mercedes _

_

* * *

_**Reviews are love! I start school again on Monday, so I'm trying to stay consistent enough with these updates. Thanks again! :]**


	11. Everything You Should've Wanted

**Author's Note: Thanks again, you guys! Hopefully the site has fixed its email notification problem. Anywho, here's the next chapter. I'll try to unbury myself from the massive amounts of reading I've already been assigned to get the next update up soon since I have it pretty much finished. This chapter is dedicated to two people—first, to the lovely **Zigs** and her wonderful fan art. I'm really thrilled at the idea that I've inspired anything of the sort since I thought this story would've been an utter crazy disaster to begin with. Thank you. And to **that crazy little girl** and her constant encouragement and letting me bounce my random ideas off her. I featured Mike Chang in this chapter and another upcoming one just for her. And kinda for me and anyone else who finds him adorable. :]**

**

* * *

**_**Chapter 11: Everything You Should've Wanted**_

The next few days are a blur for Tina.

The club is slowly shifting back into 'normal' gear. They had all approached her the other day asking if she's all right and making a heated comment or two detesting Karofsky.

Other than that, the dynamics are pretty much the same.

Santana sits herself in the top row with the usual skeptical look on her face while calmly reminding Brittany of her lefts and rights. Rachel takes quick breaks from staring longingly at Finn, who has Quinn by his side, long enough to complain to Mr. Schue about one thing or another. The front row consists of Artie sitting quietly by Kurt who gossips with Mercedes, who texts Tina and shares a few inside jokes with Matt, who is laughing at the ridiculous expressions that appear on Mike's face. Between Mike and Matt is Tina, who multi-tasks texting Mercedes, laughing with the two amicable jocks and occasionally turning around to catch the sarcastic comments from Puck who resides in the seat behind her.

As time goes on, members like Santana and Kurt will actually exchange vaguely cordial conversation; aside from the obvious, they all mesh fairly well together and nobody says a word about it. More often than not, a pair of bespectacled blue eyes will drift in the direction of blue hair and vintage jewelry.

Nobody mentions that either.

As usual, with the exceptions of Mercedes and Kurt's customary interrogations and Santana's glares, the club doesn't really bring up Tina and Puck's friendship—at least not when they're in the room. She's sure they have their own theories and that they did have their share of double takes when they noticed Tina's shift from leaning on Artie's wheelchair to exchanging hushed banter with Puck. And they are all exceptionally quiet when Schue announces that Artie and Quinn's ballad is cancelled, claiming Quinn is out with a particularly shaky bout of morning sickness.

Artie doesn't say a word.

* * *

On the first Puck-less Friday night she has in months, Tina walks into an intervention.

She knows she shouldn't be so surprised, with the day she had and all.

The Friday had begun normally enough; Puck and Tina have their routine back—early morning rides, banter, Glee, and all. They had been walking down the hall getting ready to leave when hears the distinct sounds of following wheels. She notices Artie first, considering years of friendship had trained her ears to the sounds of him approaching.

She turns around to be faced with those hypnotic blue eyes again.

"Tina, can we talk?"

His voice is low and he's looking anywhere but her.

She looks back to Puck, a little wary of what he'll say, but his face remains blank. She doesn't want to be one of those girls who have to ask for confirmation from anyone or sit around and wait for Artie forever, but a part of her feels like she should talk to him, the other part feeling like she should at least make sure Puck won't hate her for this later.

He seems to be reading her mind because he's already nodding and saying she can catch up with him later—no malice, just monotone acceptance. She couldn't have asked for much more. She second-guesses herself though, because when he trudges away he looks back at them from the other end of the hall, she's sure she sees the faintest glint of hurt.

Artie starts to smile a little. Despite the circumstance, she's sure it look right on his face; whenever she sees him frowning it never seems to fit.

"My family misses you," he starts abruptly, his voice comes out a bit pitchy and he clears his throat, trying to brush it off. She stands there, hands wringing against the strap of her bag as she tries to figure out where he's going with this. "Jack noticed you haven't been around in awhile. He keeps asking if you're coming to his birthday dinner tonight. Not that you're entirely the one to blame for that, I mean I wasn't exactly—"

"Artie…" she begins, but his eyes seem to be pleading with her.

"It's just dinner for his 4th birthday, Tee. And then after we can talk?"

"Yeah…I," she mutters, her unsure expression giving way to a tight smile. She takes a deep breath, trying to convince herself this was okay. "Wouldn't miss it."

* * *

Tina couldn't deny that sitting across from Artie at his dinner table didn't feel the same. It wasn't that she didn't want to face his family—they had greeted her with such affection it made something inside her ache. His little brother had come skipping and clung to her leg as his mother showered her with kind words. She found genuine laughs escaping her lips as they attempted to make her feel at home as they once had, but as she looks back at Artie, even he knows that those secret smiles that had once existed between them are no longer reaching her eyes and any expression directed towards him dwindles down to her solemn half-smile again.

She never once believed she'd have the ability to feel so out of her element with them, but as she takes her old seat at that table, she can't help but feel like she's dancing in someone else's shoes. As she watches Mrs. Abrams with her sweet smile and loving eyes asks her about school and passes the mashed potatoes to her husband, she realizes that Artie's content with this—with having her here and pretending like the two months where they had barely spoken didn't even occur.

She picks at her food and sings along for his family's sake, but as his mother hands out the plates for the cake, she makes a decision.

Standing up and heading over to Jack's chair, she kneels down beside him. The fibers of the carpet are tickling the portion of her legs that her skirt leaves exposed as his is family observes her with curiosity and confusion they're masking with tentatively amused smiles. She tries to keep her breathing calm.

"Happy Birthday, Jack," she whispers and he giggles at her. He's fixating her with those brilliant blue orbs—Artie's eyes. "I promise I'll help you finish that coloring book next time, okay Bug?"

He tilts his head to the side, grabbing at his foot with his fingers as he wiggles in his seat.

"You leaving?"

She nods and he begins to pout, but she ruffles his hair and lightly kisses his forehead, and soon that adorable grin is right back in place. She stands, feeling her affectionate grin slowly slipping from her face as she turns to face the rest of them. She notices Artie's puzzled smile begin to change as well.

"Tee, what are you doing?"

She takes a quiet breath, ignoring him for a moment to regard his mother—all tender eyes, light brown tresses, and a face that's used to smiling.

"Mrs. Abrams, thank you so much for dinner."

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"It's nothing," she breathes, shaking her head with a smile and willing herself to get through this. "I just…I need to go."

Artie's mother gives her a sad smile and a nod and doesn't question her any further. His father is flashing her a similar sympathetic look as his wife quickly advances to the other side of the table to wrap Tina into a hug, whispering warmly into her hair.

"It was good to have you over again, honey. Please know that you're welcome here anytime."

As Tina responds with a wordless smile, she nods and finds herself pulling her back in for one more hug. With a smile and small wave to Mr. Abrams, Tina heads to the door.

Artie, confused as ever, follows her to the hallway.

"Why are you leaving?"

She stops but keeps her back to him, staring at the portraits on the wall instead.

"Because I can't do this, Artie," she sighs, her eyes drifting over a picture of Artie and his older brother Sam as kids. They land on a candid wedding portrait of his parents. She can't help but be captivated by how happy they look.

"It's just dinner, Tee. Like I said."

She sighs now, turning away from those smiling faces to stand in front of him.

"I know," she says, her voice this rough, raspy tone that annoys her. "And maybe that's the problem…I can't be here and pretend like nothing happened."

He eyes flicker away from hers, staring at the picture behind her.

"You have no idea how hard it is to have my best friend pretend I don't exist, but what's even worse is that you don't even…"

"This is about Puck, isn't it?"

He's looking back up at her now, a sliver of anger floating behind his gaze, behind his frown.

"The sad thing is that it isn't," she sighs, shaking her head again as he gives her a pointed look. "At least not really," she continues, raking a hand through her hair before crossing her arms in defense. "You don't get it, Artie. I can't go back to the way things were as if nothing happened. I know that it was wrong for me to lie, but I'm not going to wait around for you to—"

"I can forgive you, Tee. If that's what you're worried about—please just come back to the table," he says, his words quick and winded like they're dancing on some sort of tightrope.

"The thing is, I'm not sure if I can say the same for you…at least not right now, not when you don't even know why…"

"I…" Artie starts but soon stops and shakes his head, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration. "You're not making any sense, Tina."

She bites her bottom lip a little, staring at the patterns on the carpet. She looks back up into Artie's questioning gaze and nods.

And then she's gone.

* * *

"_Yo Britt, have you seen Tina? She was just here a second ago chatting it up with Wheels."_

"_Oh yeah, she left with Artie…talking about some family dinner thing?"_

It's not like he should be all that surprised. Something in the back of his mind has been waiting for the universe to restore her friendship with Artie, as if that's the way the world is supposed to be.

At the same time, he knows he shouldn't take whatever Brittany says to heart, but the image of some giggling Tina reconciling with Artie and having some cozy dinner with his folks made him a little sick and a little scared. Not that anyone would ever know this, but Puck actually fears a lot of things—including being like his deadbeat dad, disappointing his family, and currently, Tina Cohen-Chang and her smile and her tears and the undefined way he feels about her.

And maybe her impressive right hook and the way he's never resisted his feelings like this before with anyone—that part scared him shitless—but he'll never tell her that either.

He finds himself strumming his guitar idly, trying to convince himself that maybe this is how things are supposed to be, that maybe he's just imagining this pain he feels at the thought of her. That's just his mind playing tricks on him, right?

He's sitting on his porch with his guitar when he sees her next, all cautious eyes and dark hair and he tries not to feel like such a sap.

His face is blank and hers is wary. He's not even sure how long she's been standing there a couple yards away on his walk and soon she's sitting by his side. He refuses to look at her.

"What are you doing here?" he spits out, shifting uncomfortably beside her.

She looks surprised. And a little hurt.

"Thought you'd still be off with Abrams," he clarifies, hating the way she's looking at him.

Her eyes instantly soften and she has on that secretive smile that he hates because it scares him.

"Nope," she says with a shake of her head. "It's Friday. Where else would I be?"

He just gives her a pointed look that she shrugs off.

"Well technically I'm supposed to be heading over to Kurt's later for a sleepover with Mercedes, but I thought I'd come here first."

He looks at her curiously, and she rolls her eyes at his silence.

"It's a known fact that you're a jerk, Noah Puckerman."

There she goes again, completely throwing him for a loop with her blunt honesty.

"It's the weirdest thing though…"

Her voice is entrancing and soft and he looks up to watch her watch the trail of ants that are making their way across the cemented walkway. He grunts and she takes that as a cue to keep talking.

"You're the last person on the planet I thought would understand me and somehow you were the person who judged me the least when the truth came out about my stutter."

She blushes a little, feeling self-conscious sharing something like that with the king of gruff denial.

"When you stopped talking to me that day. When you had me convinced you didn't care about me," she exhales a little, stopping and starting again, trying to find the words. "When you showed up after school…"

He cringes a little, knowing she's s referring to the Karofsky incident, something they both silently agreed to never bring up. He looks back at her and curses himself and that vulnerable little look on her face.

"I guess I didn't realize what you meant to me until you did that."

He wishes she wasn't doing this now—he couldn't look at her without feeling like a complete asshole. He should tell her before Mercedes does—he knows that, but the words won't come out. Her eyes meet his and she attempts a small smile.

"Well, I've always had a thing for girls with impressive right hooks."

This time her face breaks out in a full grin.

She's looking like she's waiting for some sort of cue and he rolls his eyes.

He watches as her expression gets sheepish and something in the way she's hesitantly biting her bottom lip prompts him to give up on his inward battle long enough to reach out to her and pull her wordlessly into his lap.

One of his hands weaves itself into her hair as the other rests on her lower back and hers reach up around his neck. She let's out a rich little laugh as she leans in to place a chaste kiss against his jaw and proceeds to rest her chin on his shoulder.

He's certain he can listen to that sound forever.

He can feel her leaning against him and is doused with a salty mix of happiness and guilt. She's been looking at him with such adoration it makes something inside him ache, makes something inside him want to tell her the truth and shield her from it all at once. As she begins tapping out some song against his shoulder with her fingertips, Puck realizes he can't bring himself to tell her; he can't be the one to break that warm smile and contented sigh.

When his arms tighten around her and he feels her smile against him, he ignores how terrifyingly natural it all feels; all he can think of is Mercedes' threat and hope Tina won't hate him come tomorrow.

* * *

Tina ambles up the Hummel's driveway with a smile on her face.

Mercedes had finally insisted that her sleepover rain-check is way past its expiration date—and added that if she wasn't 'cruisin' for a bruisin' then she'd better cash in on it soon. Relenting with a laugh and a roll of her eyes, Tina heads over to Kurt's that evening and rings the doorbell with cookie dough and a few DVDs in hand.

"_Door's open!"_

She trudges in to find Kurt's dad engrossed by the television, tearing open a package of peanuts by his teeth.

"Hi, Mr. Hummel. Is Kurt in the basement?"

He turns back to survey the items in her arms and the tentative smile still on her face.

"Oh hey there, Tina. Yeah he's downstairs with Mercedes, Malibu Barbie and that dancing Asian kid." He looks her over for a moment. "Uh, the other one. Mickey?"

Her surprise is soon replaced by laughter.

"Mike?"

"Right. Just make sure you kids keep it down, alright?"

She smiles as he turns back towards his bear-hunting show. It seems like not too long ago he used to intimidate her, but she guesses the same could be said about her.

She makes her way down the narrow wooden stairs to Kurt's white-walled inner sanctum.

True to Burt Hummel's word, there is Kurt and Mercedes on the couch with Brittany and Mike leaning against the coffee table as they seem to be pouring over Kurt's music collection.

"Hey..."

Three heads jerk up at the sound of her voice. It seems as though Brittany didn't even hear her.

"I didn't know you guys were all going to be here."

Kurt glances pointedly at Mercedes as they both rise from the sofa to approach her. She's not sure what's going on, but the look on his face seems purely determined in whatever agenda he has in mind.

"Look, darling—we're all advocates for you sticking it to Arthur, but do you really think you want to go down this road?"

"What—?"

Tina practically sputters as his hand guides her to sit in the armchair behind her. She doesn't break his disturbing gaze, even when she feels her knees buckle under her. Mercedes rolls her eyes and pushes him to the side.

"What homeboy here is _trying_ to say is do you really think dating Puck is the solution—to _anything_?"

Before Tina can open her mouth to respond with anything, another voice perks up.

"Why can't Tina be with Puck?" Brittany asks to the succession of two scandalized looks shooting her way. "He makes her happy," she says matter-of-factly. She beams her faraway Brittany-smile and the simplicity of her statement kind of makes Tina's head spin.

"She smiles more and looks less like she's going to kill us all now—that's good, right?"

Tina opens her mouth to respond but only silence emits instead. Brittany giggles a little and grabs a fistful of popcorn. Tina can't help but stare at her, her head pitched to the side and her mouth still open. Her stupor seems to break as Mercedes and Kurt advance and Tina shakes her head.

As the two scold Brittany, Tina turns to Mike, who just looks like he wonders what he's even doing here.

"Popcorn?" Mike offers brightly, shaking off the awkwardness of the situation and extending the bowl towards her. She gives him an odd look.

"Hey, quit mean-mugging me. I'm not a part of this—they told _me_ we were seeing a movie," he shrugs and tosses a few kernels of popcorn into his mouth. "I was psyched to see _Ninja Assassin_."

He pouts to no one in particular and Tina can't help but laugh.

She turns back to the other three and wants to say something, but she's not exactly sure what. To be completely honest, Tina's not really sure what the two of them even are yet, even after this afternoon—if they are, in fact, _anything_. All she seems to know is that she feels better when she's with him and by the way the amount of times per day he scowls is gradually decreasing, she's thinking he shares that sentiment. Any attempt to explain what she doesn't even know would probably start another interrogation anyway.

She's not sure if she wants to save Brittany or part of her just likes messing with them, but she finds herself talking anyway.

"You know…"

All eyes turn back to her.

"Artie was right."

Kurt narrows his eyes.

"About what?"

"About Puck and not being able to be just friends with him."

Kurt and Mercedes immediately notice how she's making a show of glancing at them sheepishly, but they also notice the slight blush creeping up her cheeks. An immediate look of horror washes over their faces—except Brittany who is still smiling her vacant Brittany-smile.

"Girl, you didn't!"

She can't help but roll her eyes a little.

"Not like that. It's just…it's different."

"Different?"

"I…" she laughs a little, not really knowing how to explain it herself. "Yeah."

Kurt is certainly not amused and he crosses his arms as if to show her he means business.

"What does that even mean?"

Tina sighs against the armchair, not even sure herself.

"I know he's been horrible in the past, that's why you guys are against this."

Kurt and Mercedes look at each other before regarding her again.

"That's not why, honey."

"It's not," she deadpans. She leans her elbows against the armrest and stares at them, a look of wry disbelief traced across her features.

Her friends seem to ignore this as Mercedes begins speaking, uncharacteristically hesitant, as her face makes a typical look of disgust.

"So you guys haven't…"

Tina's flustered demeanor is back as she pushes her friend a little in disbelief.

"No! Seriously? We haven't even kissed," she gapes, trying to calm down so her blush wouldn't spread. She tries again in a shier voice. "C'mon, you guys know me…"

It's Mercedes turn to laugh in relief, a dramatic hand to her heart.

"Jeez girl, you damn near gave me a heart attack. The last thing we need is another spawn of Satan running around—one demon child is definitely enough."

Mercedes turns to Kurt, who easily laughs his airy little laugh along with her.

"Ha, yeah. Even if this Satan does have an outdated Mohawk and abs like Hercules."

"What are you even talking about?" Tina laughs too, shaking her head.

Mike quickly nudges the pair with his elbow as Kurt's eyes widen. His hand flies to his lips in guilt. Mercedes' mouth is hanging open. Mike looks a little sick. Brittany is still smiling.

Tina's grin soon slides off her face as she sits there staring warily as Kurt and Mercedes exchange another set of those telepathic looks.

"What…"

"Tina, there's something you should know…"

* * *

**Reviews are love! Sorry if part of it seemed too melancholy or melodramatic...I blame the angsty French song i was listening to while writing part of this. :p For any of you Tartie shippers, this definitely wasn't the last of their confrontations. We shall see...**


	12. I’m A Cyborg, But That’s Okay

**Author's Note: I think the porch scene might be one of my favorite scenes too; it's actually one of the first scenes I wrote...I just had no idea where this story was going before I got there. If that makes any sense lol. This chapter's drama-filled too, but I promise we're getting to the end soon enough. I've never written this long of a fic before so I'm pretty proud of myself since I've churned all this out in about a month or so. Thank you to everyone who's been along for the ride so far. :]**

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* * *

Chapter 12: I'm A Cyborg, But That's Okay_**

Tina feels like someone sucker-punched her in the stomach.

She rises from the armchair without a word and begins to head towards the stairs on some sick and twisted autopilot.

She ignores the items she left behind, ignores the pleas from the others to talk, to stay, to sit. She's vaguely aware of her feet and how their pace quickens. Soon she's running past them all and out the front door before Kurt's dad can even turn around to see what's happening.

The fastest of the four, Mike stops her before she's completely down the driveway.

She makes out a few garbled words; she thinks he's telling her she shouldn't be walking home so late—that if she won't talk, he won't let them force her, but at least can he give her a ride?

Something in those words reminds her of Puck and how he scolded her and as if to spite him, she wants to walk home in the dark. She soon realizes she's running again—away from Mike and his concern, Mercedes and her secrets, Puck and his lies.

A block or two away and she's slowed to a zombie-like saunter, watching her shadow dance off the sidewalk from the orange glow of the streetlights. When she opens the door to her house, she blindly rushes to her stereo to blast her iPod—turning up a song she knows he hates, opening up a window because he hates being cold, laughing like she didn't care and crying like she did.

Tina falls asleep on the floor that night, thinking of broken hearts and secret daughters and wishing this were all a dream.

A couple neighborhoods away, Puck receives a text message from Mike Chang and spends the night pacing his room, cursing out his regret at the plastic stars above him.

* * *

Her weekend is spent calmly enough.

By Saturday, Tina's sure she's discovered what those saps in those cheesy songs have been bitching about all this time, yet she really doesn't know which she prefers—to be the sobbing mess that Noah Puckerman found in the bathroom that day, or this numb robot that's been left in his wake.

There's a part of her that considers giving Artie Abrams another chance; that sliver of her knows that nothing can replace the bond they had formed what felt like decades ago. The only problem or two is that that it's at odds with the part of her that wants to see Puck, which is also at war with two other parts: the one that wants to never see him again and the other that does—if only to punch his face off.

And then there's the part of her she currently favors: the one that just wants to hide under the covers until high school is over.

Her parents come home on Saturday and her father makes pancakes for dinner in an attempt to get her to smile. She's back on autopilot, answering their questions as she pokes at her food before apologizing and leaving the table, claiming she wasn't hungry. Her parents exchange worried glances as she heads back to her room to watch _Serenity_. She throws her phone at the wall, ignores the knocks on her door, and uses her favorite characters' death scenes as an excuse to cry.

She gets a little better on Sunday.

After finishing the homework she was doing just to have something to briefly distract her brain, she promptly turns off her phone since she's been ignoring it all weekend anyway, and pops _Firefly_ into her DVD player. She relishes in these episodes since Wash and Book are both alive and well and she barely leaves her room the rest of the day. To her surprise, her mother has the evening off and comes into her room around 6 o'clock, bringing her dinner before scooting under the covers with her. Tina appreciates the fact she doesn't push her to talk too much, and even laughs when her mother asks why the captain of _Serenity _wears such tight khaki pants.

* * *

None of this seems to change the fact that Tina has always hated Mondays.

She considers them reminders of what she is behind on and what she doesn't have to look forward to during the week to come. She distantly remembers a brief period when they were reminders of what she has to look forward to, but she doesn't dwell on that now.

This Monday morning isn't so bad considering her mother even ran late to her meeting to give her a ride to school again, but it doesn't change the fact that it's Monday, and she was back in these halls and back to facing the reality outside of her purple bedroom walls.

Artie attempts to meet her in front of her locker, wheeling faster so she won't pass him by. She nods along to whatever he's saying, hazily remembering what happened Friday and distantly thinking that if she had the energy to care right now she would probably be angry he's still trying to act like nothing happened. She remains silent as he accompanies her on her trek to first period.

As she listens to the teacher's droning voice reminding them to wear goggles at all times during a Biology lab to avoid reliving the mishap of last week that involved a few broken test tubes, the emergency rinse fountain, and a baffled Brittany, she wishes the weekend would just arrive already.

It certainly doesn't help matters that she can't look at Puck without feeling a fair amount of queasiness, Mercedes and Kurt kee[ chastising her for keeping her phone off all weekend, and the Artie-issue is an ever-present rain cloud all in itself.

It's enough to make her head spin right off.

* * *

When the lunch bell rings, Tina finds herself sitting at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the set of second floor classrooms. She's unaware she is sitting near the area where Ms. Lancaster 'fell' until she spots a drawing on the wall. Without contemplating the maturity levels of the student body, she has to admit it's a pretty good likeness of the old school nurse—aside from the Xs someone had doodled for eyes. She's scoffing a little when she feels someone take a seat next to her.

"Uncanny resemblance, huh?"

Tina turns her head and is met with the boyish grin of Mike Chang. He's calmly leaning back on his palms, regarding her with quiet interest. She smiles a little in return, but he notices that it doesn't really reach her eyes and the overall effect comes off more like a grimace.

"Have you been sent to keep an eye on me?"

Her emotionless voice is only half-serious, but she's not stupid; she notices the way the others look at her—like she's some ticking time-bomb they're not sure how to approach without causing her to detonate on impact.

Mike makes a sound as if he's personally weighing the validity of that statement.

"Not exactly. I mean Murt's been trading theories all morning and Artie's going ape-shit wondering where you are, but no patrol orders have been officially issued."

She ignores the majority what he just said and regards him curiously.

"'Murt'?"

"Mercedes plus Kurt," he clarifies matter-of-factly and she laughs. "What? It's catchy—and sounds a lot less like a ghetto-fabulous form of transportation than 'Kercedes' does."

She's giggling despite how numb she feels and once her laughter dies down, she fixes him with an inquisitive stare.

"Then why—?"

"Not to go all Asian-Math-Nerd on you, Tina," Mike says, cutting her off with a charming grin. "But 75% of the club is wrapped up in this love quadrangle crap—it's pretty ridiculous."

He laughs a little and pauses, playing a little with a stray thread on the hem of his flannel shirt.

"Now I know we're not tight, but all bullshit aside, I figured you could use a friend," he says simply. She's touched, but arches an eyebrow all the same. He sighs and relents with a grumble. "…Plus Santana keeps playing footsy with Matt at the lunch table—which is something I just can't witness while I'm trying to digest the mystery meat."

Tina wrinkles her nose at that and is rewarded with his laughter. She notices how rich and healthy the sound is as it echoes and lights up his features. He has one of those faces that are used to smiling and eyes that gleam warmly whenever he does so; she now understands why everyone enjoys being around him so much.

"For a little club we sure produce a crapload drama, huh?"

She smiles at how casually he said 'we', and realizes that not only was he an unwillingly coconspirator in Friday's gossip, but that it's also official—he really includes himself as one of the gleeks. His smile bears his teeth this time and Tina finds herself silently staring at him, her head tilting to the side and her chin resting on her palm. Mike can't shake the feeling that she's studying him.

"What?"

"Just…thanks."

He stares at her in surprise for a moment before opening his mouth to ask what for, but shrugs it off when she gives him a pointed look. In all honesty, she wasn't quite sure herself what she would've responded with without sounding ridiculous. _Thanks for being one of the only jocks who never tormented anyone? Thanks for the fact you're neither coming on to me nor breaking my heart?_

"No prob," he announces and laughs again. "Dude, we're the only two Asians in Glee—that practically makes us kindred."

His goofy smile is back as he makes a show of dusting off his shoulder. She rolls her eyes and calls him a dork, but soon she's laughing along with him.

She plays absently with a strand of her blue hair as he rustles through his bag for a moment and retrieves a granola bar. He offers it to her wordlessly and she smiles a little in thanks as she eyes the clock.

Maybe this day won't be so long after all.

* * *

Not even an hour later she discovers she was wrong. And not only was she wrong, she's on the brink of tears again.

Needless to say, this further cements the fact that Tina hates crying in public. The idea of having everything you're feeling etched on your face and awkwardly displayed for everyone to see—as if you're not embarrassed enough. What she hates the most about it, though, is that no matter the stutter or the slushies—she hates being seen as some coward. Shy? Maybe. Defensive? Sure. But she really didn't think she was weak—at least, not anymore.

But one look at Puck as he exchanges a few quiet words by his locker with Quinn who is absently running a hand over her belly makes something in her stomach lurch. She barely registers the fact Puck's eyes make contact with hers before she finds herself rushing down the hall and around a corner.

She nearly jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder, and yet she finds enough strength to make her skid to a stop and turn around to face the offender.

"Stop chasing me, Puck," she exhales, nearly winded and trying to keep her breathing steady. His eyes seem to scan her face before he speaks.

"Then stop running."

They stand there staring at each other for a moment and he briefly thinks she's going to sock him in the face. Not that he'd blame her.

He thinks back to Friday—when she was smiling, when he was doing everything in his power to resist the urge to kiss her. Now he wishes he had.

Her eyes begin to reveal the sadness she thought she had kept so expertly hidden as she tries to turn away.

"Tina c'mon, can we talk?"

She shakes her head and attempts to lose him in the crowd. Truth be told, she isn't sure what to say. She doesn't want to come off as a hypocrite but at the same time…

"You had your chance to tell me the truth, Puck."

She thinks of how she had swallowed her desire for doing what was easy, and how she told Artie the truth. She had been attempting to build a relationship that wasn't founded on lies and subsequently watched it all crumble before her.

She thinks of Puck and the quiet moments and the silent understanding. Then she thinks of the lie and the pain and a dormant hostility surges through her.

"You know," she begins softly, turning around to face him as she surprises him into silence. "I felt sorry for Quinn. She seemed so lost and the whole club was there for her, no questions asked."

She speaks with this husky voice that doesn't feel like hers and his gaze shifts uncomfortably from his feet to her face.

"And then I felt sorry for _you, _because of how you feel about her and look at her and want her…"

Something's reeling in her stomach as she speaks of what she never really acknowledged before.

"And all she could ever be was your best friend's girlfriend…"

The sadness in her face is ignited with anger once more.

"And now? Now I find out I'm this naïve idiot who just…"

She inhales sharply only to release it in a scoff, raking a hand helplessly through her hair. He reaches out to her and she just as quickly she snatches her hand back. The guilt he's feeling soon lashes out in frustration.

"So we're the only liars, huh?"

"No, you're not," she glares, her voice rough with the emotion she's still trying to steady.

"But the way you two manipulated Finn, the way you…"

She's annoyed with how her voice keeps breaking off a little. When she finds it again, it's more fervent than usual.

"I would never do that, Puck. Yes, I was selfish and immature lying the way I had, hiding behind something like that—but I came clean. I lost my best friend in the world, and here I was, thinking I found…"

She just looked so miserable, and Puck isn't sure if he can handle it. He tries to ignore how amusing in a sick sense it'd be if they both walked away right now—this _thing_ ending and beginning with tears. How classically morbid.

She inhales sharply, realizing they are gathering a crowd. The anger seems to melt into defeat, and she finishs in a small voice. "I was wrong."

He watches her amble away from him and something in him won't submit to defeat just yet. As his feet begin to follow her, ignoring the irritating stares of the other students, he realizes if he didn't want her to forgive him so badly he would've applauded her resilience; she's a lot stronger than people give her credit.

* * *

Tina pushes her way past the onlookers and reaches the auditorium in a matter of minutes. She knows Puck's been following her and she's already onstage when she feels someone approach her from behind.

"Puck, just go aw—"

She's midway through turning around to tiredly face him before the clipped voices of a heated conversation boom past the closed double doors.

_"Finn, don't—"_

_"No, I wanna hear the truth—"_

_"Please don't do this—"_

_ "Where the hell is he?"_

Suddenly the doors are busting open and they're met with the vision of a Hell-bent Finn marching towards them with a hysterical Quinn pleading with him from behind.

His face is flushed in hot-pink anger and his fists are clenched. She immediately shuts her mouth at the sight of him, and she's vaguely aware of the fact Puck turns his back to her, taking a protective step in front of her.

Finn is stomping up the steps to the stage and in an instant he'sstanding in front of them.

He's angrier than she's ever seen him and although she knows it's not directed at her, she's afraid all the same. She barely registers that she's leaning towards Puck and that he has his arm angled back towards her like a shield. She seems to forget that he's a liar and an asshole and that 30 seconds ago she wanted nothing to do with him as her fingers graze his forearm, tracing their way up to fidget with the rolled-up sleeve of his button-up shirt.

Tina stands there barely breathing as Quinn cries and Puck sneers and Finn's face distorts in rage and pain. She tries to make out bits of what's happening, but the conversation is lost; it seems as though their words are either unintelligible noises or her ears are playing tricks on her.

And suddenly it's as if it's all happening in slow motion; she watches Finn lunge towards Puck and her body seems to be far ahead of her brain. Before she realizes what she's doing, she's shoving Puck to the side with a strength she didn't know she possessed. He staggers and she freezes, her brain not registering that her body is now standing in Finn's warpath.

Time seems to catch up to her and she's vaguely aware of a scream that she's only half-sure didn't come from her own lips. The last thing she remembers is flying backwards and landing on something solid before the world went black.

* * *

**I feel like I should give all my characters hugs or cookies or something lol. I don't really know what to classify the genre of this story as anymore, so suggestions would be nice :p Reviews are love!**


	13. I Never Said What I Meant

**Author's Note: So…this semester is currently kicking my ass lol so I'm trying to churn out these chapters as soon as I can. I actually wrote the last two chapters and the epilogue today, sooo it's been really tough trying to come up with the next few chapters to bridge it all. So hopefully these upcoming ones aren't so bad :p I'm just really excited to post the ending chapters since those were my favorite part to write :]**

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* * *

**_**Chapter 13: I Never Said What I Meant**_

A good portion of Finn's anger instantly dissolves into horror.

He quickly scrambles off the auditorium floor, a hand clutching at his ribs as he tries to regain the air that was knocked out of him. No more than two seconds later he's being slammed back to the ground as the blur of a Mohawk leaps off the stage behind him and dashes past him.

He finds himself standing there awkwardly as the other Glee members seem to be rushing into the room. Even when the voice of Mercedes starts shrieking at him, all he can do is stand there, gaping, as they all huddle around Tina. Although he towers over most of them, all he can make out is her hair sprawled out across the carpet, her brown eyes closed.

Quinn, who had rushed down the stairs and currently has Tina's head placed in her lap, brushes a hand over Tina's hair and looks like she's trying not to cry. The others seemed to be sharing confused glances, but nobody says a word about it.

Breathing heavily, Finn seems to have at least recovered his voice.

"Is she okay? I really didn't mean…"

The sound seems to ignite something in Puck, though, and before Finn can even blink, Puck's turned away from Tina and shoving Finn aside.

"Dude, what the fuck were you thinking?"

Finn staggers backwards. His first reaction is to feel guilty, but as he takes in Puck's enraged expression, he belatedly remembers what had caused this in the first place.

"What was _I_ thinking? I'm the one who should be—"

Matt and Mike exchange glances, silently waiting for cues from the other and Mercedes rises from the floor, a murderous Mama Bear look on her face, but to everyone's surprise, it's Santana who acts first.

"Knock it off—both of you!"

She lunges forward, yanking forcefully on Puck's shirt collar as Matt and Mike jerk Finn backwards. She stands in the middle of them, and her ice-queen stare seems to momentarily freeze everyone's movements.

They both open their mouths to protest but she cuts them off with a customary glare.

"I don't give a_ fuck _who's the daddy of _whose_ baby—"

She crosses her arms in front of her, ignoring Kurt's scoff and Finn's wounded-puppy look.

"And I certainly don't care if you beat the crap out of each other," she says as if it's nothing, glowering at them both. "But I'm suggesting you two _take your shit elsewhere_."

She enunciates each word of her last sentence slowly, like she is scolding children.

"I didn't mean—"

"It's obvious that all of you _morons_," she continues, her eyes scanning around the room now, shooting daggers at Puck, Finn, and Quinn—the last of which looks caught off guard. "Have done _enough_ damage," she finishes, cutting any protest off with a voice of steel. She has the room pegged.

When she stops speaking, the rest of them stare at her, then stare at each other, half-afraid she'd stab them if they did otherwise.

"Hey, Lance Bass," she calls suddenly, turning towards Kurt. "Get an ice pack."

Before he can even comment, she's moving past him.

"Mercedes, get her some water. Mike, Matt make sure you get her to the nurse's office in one piece."

The room stares at either her or each other, trying to figure out what just happened, until she arches an eyebrow, startling everyone enough to jumpstart into the tasks she had assigned.

Not even Kurt bothers to argue with her now.

"Good. Now that we've all calmed the fuck down…"

She smooths the front of her uniform down and takes a breath. She turns on Finn, who curses a little, blinking rapidly and breathing hard, but he's soon trudging out the door with Rachel basically running in her knee-high socks to catch up with him.

She turns to Puck and Quinn next, but he's already shaking his head.

"To hell with that, I'm staying with her."

Quinn doesn't say anything and Santana moves towards Puck.

"Really, Puckerman? Because something tells me she wouldn't want you here."

He arches as eyebrow, flashing her a challenging look.

Instead of dignifying that with a real response, she rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. I'm going to cheerio practice," she announces, brushing him off. "Brittany?"

She moves to link arms with the other cheerleader, who whispers something to Santana who in turn gives her a look before nodding and turning to head out the door alone. She looks back once more.

"If I come back to find both of you idiots still here and Tina still unconscious, there will be hell to pay."

Mike and Matt, being the only people left in the room other than Brittany, Quinn, and Puck, stare after, still confused as to why she'd care in the first place. Mike shakes his head and seems to recover first as he heads towards Tina.

Matt simply stares in Santana's wake.

"Bro, I know this is totally the wrong moment for this, but please tell me I wasn't the only one who thought that was hot?"

Mike laughs and rolls his eyes, but quickly sobers as he secures one arm under Tina's shoulders and the other underneath her knees. As he gently lifts her while Quinn supports her lolling head with a firm hand, Puck pushes his way to her side.

Mike hesitates, and looks towards Matt. They seem to be telepathically arguing, Matt giving a pointed look towards Tina as if to say _'Dude, you're the one holding the girl. He can't touch you if you say something,'_ and soon enough Mike shakes his head, speaking up.

"Puck," he says, calmly. "I don't wanna piss you off, but I think Santana's right. Tina's been through enough shit today. We'll text you or something…"

A silence washes over them as they watch Puck watch them, his gaze drifting guiltily to Tina before he stalks out of the room, kicking the trashcan by the door as he goes.

The first to break the silence is Brittany.

"Is she dead?"

Quinn closes her eyes and exhales as the two boys bite back laughs.

"No, Brittany."

* * *

"Don't do this."

"_If you're not on my side, you're my enemy."_

"It's not that simple."

"_I trusted you! I thought I was your protégée!"_

"You have a long way to go, grasshopper."

"_Die, you cryptic bastard! I have the powers of break dancing on my side! Hi-yah!"_

With Tina still out cold on the faux leather bed in the nurse's office, Kurt is sitting with his legs crossed and an eyebrow raised at the sight in front of him. Mercedes is holding an icepack to Tina's head and stroking her hair as they watch Mike play with the creepy dolls that lined the windowsill. One had red hair and glasses and a definite creepy-Jacob-Ben-Israel-vibe to it while the other in his hand had white hair and buckteeth. He gave them horribly distinctive accents to boot.

It's Kurt who speaks up first.

"Is anyone else as disturbed by this one-man show as much as I am?"

Mercedes laughs, Brittany grins and claps her hands together, and Matt, who's leaning against the wall flipping through a colorful brochure on back acne, simply shrugs as if this is a normal occurrence with Mike.

Mike makes another karate sound.

"Michael," Kurt calls, a look on his face as if he smells something horrid. "Can you please at least pretend you're past age 11? I'd rather not have Tina wake up only to pass out again from fear."

Mike simply turns to Kurt, his face wiped clean of the goofiness that was there a split-second ago. When he speaks, his voice is as emotionless as he looks.

"Creativity often leads to a life of misunderstood brilliance. Don't hate."

Kurt rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to retort when Matt nudges him.

"Guys, I think she's awake."

Sure enough, her eyes are fluttering opening, trying and failing to adjust to the overhead fluorescent lights.

"_Tiiinnaaaa"_

Mike waves the dolls in her face. Mercedes confiscates them.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Brittany leans forward, that happy smile on her face.

Tina coughs a little attempting to prop herself up on her elbows.

"You're not holding up any, Brittany."

"Oh, right," she looks down, surprised. "Sorry. How about now?"

Tina blinks a few times, her vision focusing on the faces of her friends beaming at her. Suddenly the foggy memory of an angry Finn fills her mind. She bolts upright.

"Where's Puck? Is he okay?"

Matt, Mike, Mercedes, and Kurt all exchange looks.

This doesn't go unnoticed, but instead of waiting for a response, one hand flies to her head and the other to her stomach.

"I feel sick."

"Okay," Mercedes instructs, leaning forward. "First of all girl, you're going to sit back, take a sip of this water, and chill. Puck can handle his own damn self."

Kurt gently pushes Tina so she's leaning against the wall, and presses the icepack back against her head.

"Since Figgins is too cheap and the school board hasn't found out yet, we still don't have a school nurse, but Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker over here think you might have a concussion."

Mike and Matt scowl, respectively.

"Dude, we've been in football for years. We know a wipeout when we see it."

Tina takes a sip of water, squinting at them curiously.

"What…what happened?"

Kurt sits back in his chair, lightly patting her shoulder as if to say, _'Never you mind.'_

"Let's just say the combination of a Finn-tackle and the auditorium seats did enough damage on you."

She tries to sit up again.

"The seats? We were onstage…"

"Yeah. Key word: were. You went flying into them."

"It would've been kinda cool," Matt adds, and turns to Mike, who nods in agreement. "If it hadn't been so terrifying."

Brittany nods along in excitement at the prospect of a flying-Tina.

"I said I was sorry."

They all turn to look towards the door where Finn is standing, except Brittany, who in turn looks towards the ceiling claiming she hears birds.

"She wasn't conscious, you oaf."

"I really mean it, I—"

"Finn, it's okay—"

"Don't talk to him," Mike murmurs in a stage whisper. "Santana banished them," he continues vaguely and conspiratorially, looking over his shoulder as if Santana would be lurking there.

"Mike? What are you—"?

"Oh girl, you're not going to believe this," Mercedes interject. "When you were knocked out cold I was two seconds away from cutting a bitch when Santana, of all people, beat me to it."

They begin to explain, and Tina's sure her head injury is playing tricks on her hearing.

* * *

By the time they finish, Finn has stalked off again and Puck's in his place by the doorway.

They give up on trying to keep him out, and Tina gives no inkling of preference either way.

Kurt crosses his arms, not exactly wanting to leave them alone, yet not exactly ready to fight Puck off any longer.

"Fine," he relents with a glare. "Tina, if you need us, we'll be right outside." His gaze flicks towards the rest of them and gives a brisk nod. "Eavesdropping."

Tina tries for a small smile that comes out more like a grimace.

Puck leans against the counter by the unused cupboards that are decorated with would-be inspirational posters.

He crosses his arms, leaning backwards slightly. She's not sure if it's her blurry vision or not, but she can't really decipher his expression right now.

"Why'd you do that, Tina?"

She all but winces and doesn't respond, thinking that would've been embarrassingly obvious by now.

He arches an eyebrow and if her head didn't ache so much she would've had the energy to roll her eyes.

"Would you rather have me let him pulverize you?" she murmurs, cradling her head in-between her hands and massaging her temple with her fingertips.

"Actually, yeah."

"I'll remember that next time," she says, her eyes still closed, willing the dizziness to go away.

"At least it wouldn't have been the dumbass thing to do."

Her eyes immediately pop open, and in an angered rush she forgets how horrible she feels and advances.

Before either of them realizes it, she's across the room. She slaps him.

She ignores the chorus of _'oohhh's_ from their audience of friends outside of the office as she breathlessly stumbles, slumping against the wall, seething.

Her head is pounding and here he is, criticizing the way she protected him.

When she looks back up she sees his jaw is set and he's simply staring at the ground, ignoring the stinging.

"He could've really hurt you," he murmurs finally, in a low voice.

She hides her surprise with a glare.

"He wouldn't."

She sighs and crosses her arms, tired of having to read between the lines with him. She wants to stay mad a him. She wants a new, pain-free head. She wants to know if he even feels bad about Finn. She wants to know why she even pushed him out of the way. She wants to know why even if he's pissing her off now, why she has the feeling that she still would've done it anyway. She wants to know why it's so easy for her to be this emotional and outspoken person around him that she's not even sure she likes.

And most of all, she wants to know why he hasn't just walked away already.

"How can you be so sure?" he all but hisses, not really thinking as he bends down to pick up the icepack she had dropped when she hit him. "You fucking blacked out, Tina."

"Because you don't intentionally hurt friends like that," she counters, snatching the icepack from his hands and attempts to stand again, ignoring his reasoning, angry and hurt and wondering why he's still here arguing with her. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

She stumbles out the door.

He curses in her wake.

* * *

**Reviews are love! I know it may not seem like it, but don't lose hope over a happy ending. I'm getting there haha**


	14. Know Better Learn Faster

**Author's Note: I feel bad for updating so late so I'm trying my best to find downtime to post for you guys. I'm happy you guys are liking the angst. I swear I'll balance it out later lol. To be honest, when I had first written that last chapter I forgot about Artie. And then I still forgot about him in the final editing. Poor guy. I swear I'll get to him later haha And I love Mike Chang, too! He's probably not going to be featured as much in the upcoming chapters, but I wrote a nice part for him in the epilogue. :]**

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* * *

**_**Chapter 14: Know Better Learn Faster**_

She staggers out of the room and down the hall before any of them remember to react.

Kurt follows her and when he reaches out to grasp her shoulder, she almost immediately turns and pulls away as if she'd been burned.

They stand there, staring and breathing at each other, and she can tell Kurt is trying his best to keep quiet. Which is saying a lot for him.

Without warning and not entirely sure why herself, Tina chooses this particular moment to burst into tears. She swiftly latches onto Kurt, who at first blanches before turning stock-still. He seems to recover quickly as her face settles in the crook of his neck and he brings a hand up to pat her head, knowing that in his friends-with-females experience, it's better if she lets it all out.

"Tina," he states cautiously, speaking into her hair. "I will ignore the fact that you and your mascara are murdering this sweater if you tell me who it is I need to destroy—Finn or Puck."

She keeps on crying.

If she didn't appreciate the sentiment, she would've taken back her statement about him keeping quiet, because there they stood against the lockers in the middle of the deserted hallway, her sobbing into his shoulder as he rambled on into her hair.

"On second thought, I wouldn't particularly desire a confrontation with either," Kurt muses again, like he's not having a conversation with himself. "You may have noticed I'm a bit on the lanky side. My body's fashioned for art, not for war."

He seems to have gotten comfortable with the fact she's crying all over him, because his chin moves to rest on the top of her head as one of his arms is secured around her shoulders, the other coming up to let his hand idly stroke her hair as he speaks. "Plus, I wouldn't want to mess with that whole brutish vibe Puck has going on—kind of like an ape-caveman thing." He makes a little clicking sound with his tongue and shakes his head. "I really don't know what you see in that."

She babbles something muffled, whiny, and incomprehensible into his shoulder. He looks down at her for a moment. At her silence, he shrugs and continues.

"Anyway," he says, moving to stroke her hair again like his mother used to do when he was younger. "I could probably take Finn out just by outsmarting the poor thing, even if he is a giant," he reasons to himself, laughing that airy, teetering chuckle of his.

"But I'd rather not damage that beautiful face."

She pulls back suddenly and he has the decency not to smirk at her, noticing she's calmed down. Instead of speaking, though, she backs up against the lockers and lets herself merely slide down to the ground.

He stares, utterly repulsed at the thought of doing such a thing to his outfit.

"Oh darling," he breathes, his face softening as she brings her knees to rest under her chin. He huffs a little because it pains him, but he finds himself moving down to sit next to her, gingerly lifting up his knees as if checking for gum. _Oh, the things I do for my Korean-Jew friends. _Her head rests against his shoulder as she sniffles.

"Tina, I think it's time we get you home," he says, his voice much quieter than it usually is. "Ms. Pillsbury tried getting a hold your parents but…"

She picks her head up to protest, saying she's fine but he merely puts a hand up to silence her.

"Tina, you're staggering around like you've just had one too many glasses of bourbon."

Kurt helps her stand and she allows him to guide her to her locker before protesting again.

"I don't want you to have to take me home, Kurt."

They make it to her locker and he leaves to go fetch her bag before she realizes he's right, she can't get home like this. She spots Matt and Mike a few lockers down, but now, after she's good on the crying quota for awhile, the last thing she wants is help from anyone. Biting her lip, she feels something stubborn surge within her and she treks forward. Only to stumble again.

Before she can even blink, the two jocks are at her side.

"Easy there, Tina."

"Why don't you let one of us give you a ride?"

She looks up at them, each with a steadying hand on her shoulder, and feels guilty that her response to their concern is to push them both away.

"No, really I'm fine—"

"I'll do it."

They all jump a little at the voice before the three of them look up to find Finn standing there with his hands in his pockets.

"Tina, lemme take you home. I—" he sighs, seemingly frustrated with himself. "It's the least I can do."

* * *

They're in Finn's mother's station wagon, with him drumming his fingers idly on the dash and her on her cell phone. They're already parked in her driveway. Her mother has finally calmed down on the other end, and is now reading off the side effects of a mild concussion off the Internet and asking if she needed to go to the hospital.

"I'm fine, Mom. We were just practicing a group number for Glee and I got knocked over."

Finn looks over at that, watching her curiously before she finishes her conversation and hangs up the phone.

"Why'd you—"

She sighs and shakes her head.

"It's easier to explain," she says simply. "I didn't want to sic my mother on you, you've been through enough today."

He nods and looks down, letting her words settle awkwardly in the air. She's not sure if Kurt's rubbing off on her or something, because she finds herself rambling to fill the silence.

"Plus I'd rather not be embarrassed by actually having to describe the fact I jumped like an idiot in-between a fight and flew off the auditorium stage."

He grimaces.

"I'm really sorry, Tina."

"It's alright, Finn."

She bites her lip for a moment, wondering why she doesn't feel like breaking down anymore and trying to decide whether or not to say anything. She's not even sure she's even spoken to Finn directly before.

"How _are_ you?" she blurts before she can really think about it, an unidentifiable vehement force behind her voice. She's relieved when he laughs a little.

"Not gonna lie, I feel like crap. You?"

"Just peachy."

They share a sad little smile and then he nods to himself.

"You know, you'd think it'd be easier."

"What do you mean?"

"Dealing with emotions and stuff. Like I don't get why crap like that's gotta be so hard."

He's glaring at the steering wheel in some sort of bitter defeat and her expression softens.

"I guess none of us make it easy?"

"_They_ don't make it easy."

"No, I guess not," she agrees quietly. She bites her lip again and nods, not really having the ability to disagree with that statement.

"Can I tell you something?"

Her head picks up at that; now she's _certain_ they've never said this much to each other before. She takes another look at him and notices that vulnerable little look on his face, and she finds she doesn't really mind that right now.

"Sure."

"I keeping thinking about it, you know," he says, glaring at the dashboard again and she waits patiently for him to continue. "What it would've been like to be a dad. I know it's hard work and I should be relieved…"

He shakes his head a little as if it'll make him understand this all.

"But it's like at random-ass times I'll forget it was a lie. I'll be sitting at a desk or tying my shoe and I'll start thinking about stuff like baby names…or if she'd have my eyes or whatever…"

She doesn't breathe as she watches his jaw set, like his face is trying to prevent itself from crumpling.

"And now that none of that's possible, I can't get myself to shake off this stupid feeling."

She remembers to breathe and responds in an almost inaudible whisper.

"What feeling?"

He shakes his head again, shrugs, and looks at her for the first time.

"The feeling that I lost something."

Tina sits there biting her lip and wishing there is something, _anything_ she could say to console him. The worst part is that she knows that if she hadn't been friends with Puck, and Mercedes had told her like everyone else, she would've kept the secret from him, too. So what can she say without feeling like some phony?

"I'm really sorry, Finn. I wish there was something I could—"

"Nah," he ducks his head and chuckles this humorless laugh. "I feel like I should be saying sorry to you."

"I already said it's okay—"

"I was so angry when I found out I could've punched a wall in and I ended up attacking you off the auditorium stage," he says, staring a little out the window like he still can't believe that happened himself.

She's already shaking her head.

"You have a right to be angry. They made you think you were going to be a _father_—you have nothing to apologize to me for," she says, her voice soft and firm all at once. "Plus," she continues, a little laugh escaping her lips. "You weren't aiming, right?"

He's smiling this tightlipped, crooked smile when he seemingly switches gears on her.

"Well my mom's always telling me friends are rocks or something like that. None of that ever made any real sense to me," he announces, his eyebrows furrowing as if he's still trying to decipher what that means. "But now that I know they all knew except for us…I know we're not super tight, but I think of you as a friend."

She exhales and finds herself smiling in gratitude.

"And now I just feel even more like crap for hurting you."

"That's really sweet, but it's not your fault, Finn."

He shakes his head, though, already moving past it.

"Anyways, thanks for listening to me, Tina. I hope you didn't mind me unloading on you like this. The only person I ever really talked to this about is Kurt and I can't get over that they all knew. At least not yet."

She nods, not trusting herself to say anything remotely profound. Not that she had been expecting him to.

"And Rachel keeps pushing but…I guess it just sucks less talking to someone who doesn't want anything from me, someone who kinda gets it."

Although she smiles one of her tightlipped grins, the warmth reaches her eyes and he feels like she means it.

"Kinda like when you and Artie were always together," he muses, and her eyes widen in surprise. "Back before you got speech therapy and you still kinda freaked me out."

She didn't know whether to be amused, guilty, or stunned. She goes with feeling sick.

"Is that why you guys stopped talking?" he asks, conversationally. "'Cause you fixed your stutter?"

She doesn't want to have this discussion. She feels like she owes it to him, though; he'd just been completely honest about something personal, and she's relieved his mood seems to have lightened.

"Oh…I…"

She stutters a little, still stunned, and she couldn't have felt lamer. If lamer was even a word.

"People think I'm an idiot, but I notice crap like that from time to time."

She doesn't feel like going through this again, at least not right now, but she reminds herself she kind of owes the truth to Finn now.

"I lied," she starts softly, and he turns to her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "About my stutter, I mean." She fiddles a little with her bracelet before looking back up at him. "I never really had one. I faked it a long time ago so people would leave me alone. I told Artie that and it didn't go over very well."

She takes a deep breath, wondering why she feels like he's going to hate her for this.

He doesn't.

"Oh, I wondered about that," he says, like he's truly mulling this over. "I know speech therapists are good here in Lima and all, but that was kinda fast."

She laughs, not expecting that response from him at all. She watches as his expression looks as if trying to work out something in his head.

"Oh, I get it," he announces, smiling like he's just figured out a tricky math problem.

"What?"

"It's a little weird, but I get why you faked it," he asserts, and she feels her own confusion settling in. "I deal with hazing from the guys on the team and I'm supposed to be one of them. It can't be any easier for someone who isn't. You were protecting yourself."

She stares at him. _Why did everyone else in the world but her best friend have the ability to empathize with her?_

"That's odd, though."

"What? That I faked something like that?"

"No," he says quickly, and she laughs. "Well yeah, but I mean that it's weird Artie got mad."

"It's understandable. He thought I was something I wasn't for years," she says, finds resting her chin on her palm, reciting her response like an automated speech to the floor.

"Yeah, but that's not something I'd be mad at for that long. I mean, it took guts to tell him that yourself."

She nods, not really knowing what to say to that.

"It's kinda cool, actually."

"What is?"

"You guys!" he declares, and she can't help but feel like they both missed a step. "C'mon, the bass-playing boy in the wheelchair in love with the singing Goth chick? Tell me that's not a match made in comic book heaven."

"I…wow."

They really weren't on the same page anymore.

"You guys'll work it out. Like my mom says, two rocks aren't meant to be apart for long…or something like that."

Despite her uneasiness, she can't help but laugh as she moves to leave and watches as he gets up and runs around the car to her side. He doesn't mention Puck and she's pretty convinced he's overlooking the fact she pushed him out of the way. _Oh, clueless Finn…_

She steps out and he wordlessly offers his arm, slinging her bag over his shoulder and leading her to her front door.

"Well, I gotta go drive my mom to her appointment," he says in lieu of a goodbye, watching her unlock the door. "They're looking at her lady-parts today."

She ignores the urge to smack her palm to her forehead in risk of causing more damage and calls out to him before he makes it off the porch steps.

"Finn?"

He turns back, that innocent smile that reminds her of puppies and sunshine on his face.

"I think of you as a friend, too."

His face breaks out in a full goofy grin and turning towards to leave again. He waves when he reverses away from her driveway, and she finds herself genuinely smiling. She turns and heads inside, shaking her head at the day she had.

First Schue, then Mike, and now Finn. She's definitely not used to these heart-to-heart-esque conversations, but judging by the way she didn't feel so alone afterwards, she didn't seem to mind them too much.

Little did she know, she would soon take that last statement back.

* * *

**Reviews are love.**


	15. Silly Girl, Pride Kills More Than AIDS

**Author's Note: I've been in a terribly depressing mood for the past two days, but lucky for you guys that means you get frequent updates. I'm pretty happy with this fic though…so…hooray.**

_"It's so obvious how they need each other  
They want and bleed and hurt but they keep it covered  
He don't say much, when there ain't much to say  
She waits for his response, she waits all day  
I asked her for the time, she said the timing was off  
'But I got this pain inside—'  
She said, 'It's all you've got...'"_

—Lonely World - Bryan Greenberg

_"But he said, 'Slow down. Slow down. Think it over.  
We've all got wretched closets,  
but silly girl, pride kills more than aids lately...'"_

—Going Away - Meg & Dia

**

* * *

**_**Chapter 15: Silly Girl, Pride Kills More Than AIDS**_

It's been two weeks.

Two weeks without him giving her rides. Two weeks without her coming over. Two weeks with her sitting clear across the room in Glee.

And Puck's not really sure what to do now.

He's lying on his bed, glaring at his posters and listening to his iPod, when his eyebrows furrow at the song that comes on.

_Creep up and tell me that you  
You love me more each time you  
Look into my eyes, I feel like  
I know you don't mean to be mean  
I'm sure you know the same for me  
When you creep up and tell me  
Darling  
This thing that breaks my heart  
And darling  
It breaks my heart each time you…_

He ends up yanking the earbuds out. _This is the last time I let her add songs to my iPod._ Then he wonders if he even has to worry about that now.

He finds himself watching her a lot, and he means that in the least Jacob-Ben-Israel-stalker way possible. He catches glimpses of her with her friends. She doesn't seem to be saying much, but as the days go on he notices her laughing more often. He feels pretty lame for staring at her like some creepy wuss, but he's just so used to being around her and now that he isn't…

_Fuck, this is stupid._ He doesn't do this—he doesn't _care._ He never asked to have her worm her spooky little way into his life and make him feel guilty and pathetic and have his mother give him these pitying little looks at dinner when he tells her she can stop setting a place for her at the table.

When Sara whines that she misses Tina, he doesn't respond. He hadn't put this feeling into words yet, but that couldn't be right…

Along with caring, missing things is on that list of shit he simply doesn't do. He doesn't miss his dad, he doesn't miss Finn—he doesn't _miss_ people.

His eyebrows furrow as he glares at the barely-used binder he had thrown on his bed earlier. Next to his name doodled in sharpie, she had drawn a cartoon version of herself donning a rice paddy hat and wielding a sickle. Anime!Tina had this innocent little smile on as she aimed the blade towards his name.

He then rolls his eyes, deciding this has to be some sort of joke. A mind-numbing, twisted, unfunny joke. _You don't miss people,_ his brain repeats.

Then why does he keep thinking about her?

* * *

Tina manages to get through the week with just one more semi-heart-to-heart.

And it's after that said conversation that she really considers never opening her front door ever again.

She's been sitting at the lunch table again and to her relief, Mercedes and Kurt have seemingly—although probably temporarily—learned their lesson with pushing her to talk.

It's Artie who shows up at her door on Thursday. Well, it's more like she's sitting in her living room watching TV and he parks his chair and knocks on the window until she notices. And screams.

She kind of really doesn't want to know how long he's been sitting there.

She rises from the couch with a hand over her heart and watches him roll along the stone walkway to her front door and she follows to open the door.

He has on this sheepish little look that she might've found endearing a few months ago.

"Hey, stranger."

She ignores the urge to shut the door in his face. She instead sighs, remembering their old routine.

"No stranger than you."

He looks down at the welcome mat as if it he'll find the perfect string of words to say etched into the fibers.

"We never did get to talk…"

He looks back up at her and she leans against the door with her arms crossed, thinking she should probably let him in. She doesn't budge.

"No, we didn't."

"I heard what happened…"

She really doesn't know where this sudden aggression has come from, but she wants to say _"No shit, Sherlock"_ considering they go to McKinley and there isn't anyone who hasn't heard. Not that they really know the facts. In one account, apparently Tina had seduced both Finn and Puck and they had been fighting over her when Quinn had jumped in and attacked her, having been in love with both guys too.

God, she hated high school.

"Can we talk?"

She wants to decline, wants to tell him to go home, wants to tell him where he can shove his convenient friendship, but she takes one look at his hopeful expression and nods. She was never really good at saying no to those eyes.

She moves to the side and follows him inside.

"_So you want to talk now the baby's daddy secret is out and I look like an idiot?"_

That's what she wants to ask, but instead it comes out as:

"You knew, didn't you?"

He nods and has the decency to look a little guilty. He merely observes as her gaze is drawn back to the rerun of _The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air_. He notices the ghost of a smile that appears as she watches Carlton break out in his signature happy dance.

He calls her name to get her attention and also notices how her smile fades.

"I don't wanna be mad at you anymore, Tee," he sighs. "I don't want it to be like this—you're my best friend."

He reaches out to her, his fingers curling gently around her wrist.

Artie smiles a little when she doesn't pull away. She sits there in silence as she stares at his hand on her.

"Do you ever wish we could just go back?"

She looks back up at him, but she doesn't have the energy to feel surprised anymore.

If he had asked her that a few months ago, she would've said yes in a heartbeat. But now...now she no longer knew.

And suddenly, her hand moves itself out of his reach.

"You should've trusted that I was the same person."

He looks as stunned as she feels at her own words.

"You should've seen the girl _before _you saw the disability. Like how I saw you," she continues, her voice this deep concoction of anger and determination. He opens his mouth to speak, and this just seems to further fuel her.

"The first time I reach out to someone after I created that stupid lie…only to push away the one person I wanted to be honest with," she murmurs, her fury seeming to melt itself into defeat. "Do you have any idea how alone I felt?"

When she pauses he looks at her, watching her face crumple as she tries fighting the tears that are already falling. She swipes at them wordlessly.

"I messed up, Tee," he breathes, his voice a cautious kind of quiet. "I shouldn't have pushed you away, you were honest and I should've appreciated that—"

She shakes her head. She thought this is what she had been waiting for, but now that he's here she doesn't want to hear it.

"What you did…it wasn't fair," she states, staring at the wall before turning to him. "But I get where you were coming from. It's not easy being lied to, whether the person meant to hurt you or not. The pain's still there."

He's glad she understands that, but the now lifeless tone of her voice doesn't settle his anxiety. There are so many things that have built up over the past few weeks, past few months—so many things she had wanted to say to Artie, but they all seemed so small now as they died on her tongue in silence.

She suddenly feels so tired, like the emotions are catching up with her physically.

"I really liked you, Artie," she says flatly, her face a terrifyingly beautiful blank as she turns to him. "You know that, right?"

He's not sure what catches him off-guard more: her confession, or the fact she's saying it in past tense.

"I wish I knew it when it mattered."

_Before I lost you,_ he was saying. She doesn't react to this, just leans back against the cushions of the couch. He sighs.

"Do you think that we could ever…?"

He cuts himself off, knowing he can't be asking her this right now.

She wipes away any remnant of tears; she's tired of being weak, tired of being _seen_ as weak. Soon the redness in her eyes is clearing and she's sitting up a little straighter as if in defiance to her emotions.

Looking at her now, Artie can't shake the growing desire he has to hold her hand. Knowing what she needs right now is a friend, though, he tries his best to swallow his feelings.

"So what are you going to do, Tee?"

"I don't know," she says briskly, her voice a stronger, throatier version of itself.

He nods, knowing she's being honest, but not really knowing what else to say.

His hands lace together and rest in his lap; her arms cross in front of herself protectively. They both sit there in silence, watching Uncle Phil hurl Jazz out the front door.

* * *

Puck decides to suck up enough of his pride or whatever it is and calls her on a Friday night. Tina picks up on the last ring, like she'd been staring at her phone, deliberating whether to just shut the thing off. Not that he's paranoid or anything like that.

"I'm sorry."

It's out of his mouth, in lieu of a greeting, before he even realizes it. And there goes #3 on the list of Shit-Puck-Doesn't-Do: apologies. What was she doing to him?

She doesn't respond right away, and he starts wondering if he'd even said it aloud.

"I'm tired of trying to hate you, Puck."

Her voice is low and he waits for her to elaborate, waits for him to think of something to say. He can't help but feel like he's in some lame chick flick.

"Maybe…maybe it's better this way."

He gets the feeling that he missed something and suddenly feels like he's in those foreign films she likes instead; the ones where the poor pansy of a dude is yelling at the love of his life, trying to get her to stay, to talk, to love him. He hates reading subtitles so he's not really sure what's said in those scenes, but he's sure it's anything but fun. Not that he compares himself to those saps. Because he doesn't.

"Things were easier when I was just the weird girl and you were just…"

Although he realizes what she's doing his voice seems to have chosen the wrong moment to dissolve into nothingness. Maybe he's a sap after all.

"It'll be easier if we just go back to how it used to be."

_Easier._ The word echoes and although he's pretty sure nothing falls under that category, he finds himself thinking of car rides and scary movies and the way she looks when she teases him.

"Wait—what?"

He hates how his voice finally decides to catch up to what's happening.

"You're going to be a father, Puck. I…nothing is more important than that."

Silence.

"I should go."

"Tina—"

He hears the dial tone.

"_It'll be easier if we just go back to how it used to be."_

It bothers him that he doesn't really know how to do that. He leans back and stares at the ceiling, those stupid stars taunting him.

"_Maybe it's better this way."_

She doesn't really believe that…does she?

* * *

**Reviews are love. Happy Valentine's Day. Or in the words of Chris Colfer, Happy Singles Awareness Day.**


	16. Fighting For Nothing

**Author's Note: I want to say that we're in the final stretch of this fic lol but that sounds weird. Anyway. I'm feeling pretty accomplished with this and I figured I'd post the rest of the story up today so I can stop distracting myself :p**

**

* * *

**_**Chapter 16: Fighting For Nothing**_

"Mercedes and I are here to assist you with backing vocals, something you have done numerous times for me."

Mr. Schue had somehow gotten both Rachel and Mercedes to agree to singing backup for her. Not only is Tina floored, but she's also speechless as Rachel simply beams at her. How he managed this, she's not all that certain, and she immediately regrets asking.

"I've learned that to be a star, one must learn how to play different roles, no matter how subordinate it may seem to someone of my stature."

Mercedes rolls her eyes.

"Girl, I know you've been stuck in your little Puck-bubble for awhile—"

"Can we please not call it that?"

She ignores her.

"—But you've got one helluva voice and I'm here to make sure you don't wig out on me."

Tina turns away from her with a sigh, only to be met with the sight of Rachel with her arm up in the air like she's in class. Mercedes laughs.

"Uh, Rachel?"

"May I speak freely?"

"Sure?"

"I've found that singing is the perfect way to release emotions we're too uncomfortable to say."

Tina stares. Rachel simply smoothes the front of her blouse down and addresses her calmly.

"It's come to my attention that something has developed between you and Noah."

_Here we go._

"Rachel—"

"Let me finish," she says, holding a palm up in front of her. Mercedes arches an eyebrow. "Now, I know he's a prime example of your typical high school jerk—"

"It's okay, Rachel," she cuts her off, really preferring not to hear this. "I already broke...whatever it was off."

"Why would you do that?"

Rachel suddenly stops, looking confused, which only makes Tina stare confusedly back at her.

"Weren't you about to tell me all the reasons why I shouldn't be hanging around him?" she asks, casting a look at Mercedes, who just shrugs. "You can save your voice, everyone pretty much beat you to it."

"Actually, Tina…I was going to tell you quite the contrary."

She smiles this mischievous smile, ignoring the way the two girls are looking at her. She simply turns to the pianist with a determined fervor telling them they're ready to rehearse now.

* * *

A few days later Tina stops in front of the choir room door, staring at it like crossing it would mean certain death. Mike and Kurt are behind her and she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Tina, what's wrong?"

"I'm pretty sure Schue's going to make me to present my solo today," she breathes, her back to them as she stands there staring at the handle.

"Well maybe," Kurt says, "He'll make an exception for you being hit by the bulldozer that is Finn Hudson? And if not, you don't have to be nervous."

"It's not just that…" she replies, her eyebrows furrowed as she stares at the black treble clef taped to the door. "I don't know if I can pull this off with both of them staring at me."

They don't have to ask to know who are the two she's referring to. If she thought "Nineteen" was going to be bad, she knew this would be even worse. Suddenly Kurt grabs Tina by the shoulder, pivoting her around to face him.

"Honey, everyone seems to act like Rachel is the only one with talent," he claims, his words rushed and his eyes lighting up in a manic way that's downright terrifying. "You have to know how amazing your voice is."

She nods quickly and to her relief, his grip slackens.

"He's right, Tina. You deserve this solo."

Kurt's head jerks in Mike's direction, staring at the other boy as if he doesn't know whether to be bothered by being interrupted or be thankful Mike is backing him up.

"Of course I am," he declares, brushing it off as he spins Tina back towards the door. "Now you go in there and ignore those two bumbling idiots."

"Yeah, you don't even have to look at them. If you get nervous, look at me and Murt."

Kurt's scandalized expression at the portmanteau Mike had given him and Mercedes makes Tina laugh, which in turn makes her breath easier. She flashes them a small smile in gratitude and turns around to face the door, walking right on in.

Puck isn't even in the room when everyone files in and finds their seats.

She should be relieved, so she really doesn't understand why she's bothered. Not that this has anything to do with the fact that she noticed Quinn's missing too. Because it doesn't.

Just as the worst case scenarios start filtering into her head, he's trudging through the door. His face is shining with stickiness and his flannel shirt is slung over his shoulder, reeking of unmistakable corn syrup and artificial raspberry.

She goes right up to him, forgetting she was supposed to be mad at him.

"What happened?"

He seems surprised.

"You're talking to me?"

She immediately recoils.

"Karofsky's back," he explains quickly, regretting he said anything about her speaking to him in the first place. "This is his way of showing he missed me."

She stares at him for a moment, not really knowing what to say when she hears her name being called.

"Tina."

Mr. Schuester is walking through the door, that enthusiastic spring still in his step. She quickly walks away from Puck and heads to an empty seat by Matt.

"You up to it today?"

She thought about saying no, but she instead gives her friends a knowing look before she nods.

"Then let's see what you've got," he announces, beaming encouragingly at her.

She takes a deep breath before she rises and heads to the space in front of the group. Mercedes and Rachel are already adjusting their microphones by the time she composes herself. Given the circumstance, she really wants to kill Schue for making her sing this song. _You can do this. Just don't look at Puck. Look at Mike. Look at Kurt._

She looks at Mercedes and Rachel, looks at the pianist, looks at the band that seems to always be ready to play for a club that everyone hates.

She breathes and begins.

_I don't like you  
But I love you  
Seems that I'm always  
Thinking of you  
Though you treat me badly  
I love you madly  
You've really got a hold on me  
You've really got a hold on me  
_

The tension in her head seems to relax a bit as her gaze drifts over smiling faces.

_  
I don't want you  
But I need you  
Don't want to kiss you  
But I need to  
Though you do me wrong now  
My love is strong now  
You've really got a hold on me  
You've really got a hold on me_

As Rachel and Mercedes harmonize on the bridge, she does the unthinkable: she looks at Puck. And it's not as bad as she thought it'd be.

_I want to leave you  
Don't want to stay here  
Don't want to spend another day here  
Though I want to split now  
I can't quit now  
You've really got a hold on me  
You've really got a hold on me…_

Applause.

Tina laughs in relief as the song ends and Brittany comes bounding up to her, asking if someone is choking her while the rest shower her with praise. She grins as Mr. Schue pats her shoulder proudly.

* * *

At the end of practice, Tina hangs back a bit, gathering her things.

Her breath catches in her throat as she turns around to find Puck one of the only people left in the room with her, standing a lot closer than she would've anticipated.

Kurt and Mercedes look reproachfully his way, silently asking Tina if she needs their 'assistance'.

A voice tells them to go on ahead. It takes her a moment to realize it had been hers.

She's raking her brain with something to say, and all she comes up with is:

"You missed a spot."

He stares at her before realizing this may be her peace-offering.

"There," she clarifies, bringing her hand up to rub away some drying slush on his jaw. His hand catches her and she instantly stills.

"I take it you're done hating me?"

"You're the one who—"

But she stops herself, knowing this will get them nowhere.

"I never hated you, Puck," she says softly now, gently taking her hand back, allowing it to slip down and fiddle with the strap of her bag. Then she smirks. "Well, except that one time freshman year you filled my locker with garlic salt."

"I thought I was warding off evil spirits. Total necessary precaution."

She rolls her eyes and offers a small smile.

He had missed that.

"Good job," he says suddenly, and rolls his eyes at her confused expression. "On the song, I mean. I think you should talk to Schue, though." She looks at him. "You don't need the backup."

She smiles her thanks.

"I was surprised Rachel even wanted to help me. She's been in this odd mood lately."

"20 bucks says her and Finn are boning."

"Puck!"

"What? You know I'm right."

She shakes her head and laughs again. He looks down at his shoe before looking back up at her, his hands in his pockets and not really wanting to do what he knew he had to.

"You know I didn't mean to..." he starts, his voice suddenly serious.

She nods, not trusting her voice.

"I just…" he sighs, running a hand over his Mohawk in frustration. "Man, I suck at this."

"Yeah, you do."

He looks up to see her smiling and he feels encouraged.

"I'm sorry, Tina. It was fucked up for me not to tell you…and then get pissed over what you did in the auditorium when I should be thanking you."

She stares. She smiles. And then to his confused horror, she laughs.

"That must've been really hard for you."

"Hey, don't mock me. It's progress."

Their laughter dies down and he fixes her with a look.

"So?"

"You're such a jerk, Puck."

He laughs out his surprise.

"Yeah, well…"

"And I'm not really sure why…" she continues, tilting her head to the side in her musing. "Maybe because how endearing it is to see you try to apologize…"

He glares.

"But I forgive you."

The words seep in and he looks at her smile, feeling a lot less like a fuckup.

"Do you wanna hang out or something?"

His voice comes out a little unsure, which only makes her smile.

"On one condition," she declares, holding up a finger to point at him. "No sports."

He smirks.

"Deal."

He holds his hand out for her to shake and she laughs.

And then comes #4 on his list: hugging.

She's surprised she even does it, and judging by the way he stands there frozen for a second, so is he. He feels her cheek rest against his chest and her arms wrap around him and he recovers.

He feels her let out this calm little sigh, and it's then that he decides that anything else he could put on that list doesn't matter; none of those things would get him this. None of them would get him her, with her hair falling over her eyes, with her snarky comebacks…none of it would allow him to stand here with arms around her or allow him to feel her smile as he does just that.

And so, he thinks, _to hell with it._

Not that he'd tell her any of that.

"Knew you missed me."

He feels her let out an amused scoff.

"I really hate you sometimes," she says with a laugh, her head now resting under his chin.

"Good," he replies into her hair. "'Cause I hate you, too."

She pulls back, shaking her hair out of her eyes as she looks up at him.

She smiles and he wonders why he feels lightheaded all of a sudden.

Like some unwanted reality check, the door of the choir room is swinging open and there stands Quinn, a hand to her belly, an uneasy look etched on her flushed face.

"Sorry," she murmurs with embarrassment, noticing the lack of distance between them. "I really need to speak with you, Puck."

They take a step back from each other and Tina notices now the red rim around her eyes. She stands there awkwardly, quietly watching as Puck steps forward.

"Is it the baby? Is something—?"

"My mother," she inhales sharply, her eyes blinking in rapid succession. "She called Finn's mother to find out if I was still staying there…"

Her lips purse together in frustration.

"I know she didn't mean to, but she let slip he's not the real father, Puck."

"Wait, do you need a place to—?"

But she's shaking her head.

"That's not the point I'm trying to make here."

Puck looks back at Tina before staring back at Quinn.

"The point is that I, um...I think she called your mother."

* * *

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	17. Coming To Terms

_**Chapter 17: Coming To Terms**_

Puck couldn't get home fast enough.

But now that he's parked in his driveway, he can't remember how to breathe.

Quinn is sitting in the front seat next to him, staring straight ahead at the garage door, unsure of what to really say.

It's Tina who moves first. She's not exactly sure what she's doing here, but she unbuckles her seatbelt and leans forward from the backseat to catch Puck's attention. She's not entirely sure how it happens, but her hand finds his and her thumb begins tracing circles along his knuckles.

As she feels him idly lace their fingers together, she remembers now that this morning she was mad at him. But as he sits there, a look of utter dread and shame in his eyes, she can't find the energy to pretend not to care. She does, though, remind herself that this is between Puck, his mother, Quinn, and that child growing inside of her.

"I shouldn't be here, Puck," she says quietly, her hand slipping out of his. "This is none of my business and I don't think—"

He captures her hand back.

"Stay," he breathes, turning to look at her.

She does.

He doesn't elaborate and for a moment her chin rests against his shoulder, her hand back over his as he allows her presence to calm him.

Quinn observes the exchange, a curious look surfacing.

She had her general suspicions with Puck and his conquests, but she really hadn't realized Tina and Puck were that close. She had thought seeing something like this would bother her, make her enraged that that tender look was no longer fixed on her, at least not in the way she thought she wanted. She watches him breathing easier and Tina smiling warmly at him, despite the fact they hadn't even been speaking this morning. Sure she's envious that she doesn't have someone to calm her down or hold her hand or tell her it'll all be okay, but she discovers she isn't feeling some longing and hateful jealousy. If it wasn't for the fact they were about to confront his poor mother, she'd almost feel serene.

Maybe all these pregnancy hormones are making her go soft or something.

* * *

And so, there the three of them stand inside his house, congregating nervously by the front door as they try to figure out some sort of game plan.

Tina stands at Puck's side and for reasons unbeknownst to her, tries to be the calming force as she addresses them.

"Maybe if you two just go in there quietly," she suggests in a low voice. "Don't ambush her. Maybe she doesn't even know you're home yet—"

"Yay!"

_Crap._

"Hey there, Sara-Bear," she responds, switching gears by crouching down to greet the oncoming blur of purple and pigtails.

"Tina, Noah's been a meanie lately 'cause you're friends with a douche."

Tina, her mouth open caught between a laugh and a gasp, turns to Puck and jabs him in the leg. He shrugs.

"So you're friends again?"

Tina again turns to Puck, who's simply staring at her with a little smirk on his face. She lets out a gentle laugh and nods.

Sara's grin threatens to split her face.

"Good," she giggles. "'cause Noah really likes you. He keeps playing love songs on his guitar."

"Is that so?" Tina asks, then cranes her neck to look back at him, a teasing grin already on her face. He scowls.

"You can tell me all about that later, okay?" Tina laughs, leaning towards a giggling Sara like they're plotting something.

Puck rolls his eyes, but Tina can see the smile breaking through.

Quinn studies this exchange as well and finds that she's smiling in spite of herself as Tina ruffles the little girl's hair.

"Where's your mom?" Tina whispers, still balancing herself on her haunches, and Sara begins to point when a voice calls from the direction of the living room.

"Kids?"

Tina again turns towards Puck, who just stares back at her lamely and doesn't respond.

"Tina, is that you?"

Quinn does a double take. _Just how often is Tina over here?_

"Yeah, Ms. Puckerman, I'm just saying hi to Sara!"

"Sweetheart, I thought I told you to call me Debora?"

Tina looks back at Puck, silently noting that she doesn't sound upset at all. With his hands in his pockets he still seems unconvinced this isn't some sort of ruse.

"Sorry, Ms. Puckerman!" Tina calls back, and smiles to herself when she hears his mother's laughter. Puck's too busy staring at his shoes to roll his eyes.

Closing her mouth, Quinn lets out a lighthearted noise that sounds like something in-between a giggle and a scoff; she really should train herself to stop being so surprised.

Tina places her hands on her thighs as she pushes herself back into a standing position. She turns to Puck, staring at him expectantly as he speaks.

"Can you…"

He murmurs, nodding once towards the living room. Quinn doesn't understand what that means, but Tina seemingly does, because she crosses her arms in front of her.

"_Really_, Puck?"

He stares at her and she takes that as a yes, scoffing and narrowing her eyes. For reasons unbeknownst to her, she wants to be here for him, but she isn't exactly keen on the idea of being used as a safety blanket.

"Just give us a second," he says, and Quinn catches on. "Please?"

She casts a quick glance at Quinn who mouths 'thank you' before glaring at him once more and ambling uneasily towards the living room, feeling a lot like a scapegoat.

She enters the room with Sara on her heels to find Puck's mother on the couch, leaning towards the coffee table, with a cup of tea in one hand and flipping through an old photo album with the other.

_Great._

"Hey, honey," she greets, smiling warmly before turning a page. "It's good to see you. I was afraid for awhile there, Noah had scared you off."

As soon as her attention is back on a picture of a 5-year-old Puck dressed as Batman for Halloween, Tina's polite smile drops and her eyebrows furrow. There was no trace of sadness or pain on her face. _Had Quinn been wrong?_

His mother looks up again and beckons her towards her, patting the seat cushion next to her. Tina sits.

She bites back a laugh at mini version of Puck flexing his arms in his costume, reminding herself of her haphazard objective.

"Where is he?" his mother asks, an amused twinkle in her eyes. Tina was terrified of seeing that look vanish.

"He's, uh…" she sputters, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. "I'll go get him."

If his mother is fazed in any way by the manner in which she pops right back up and basically runs towards the hallway, she doesn't show it.

As soon as she makes it back to the foyer, Puck jerks up from where he had been leaning against the railing of the stairs and instantly pulls her towards them.

"What'd she say? Is she pissed? Are there any sharp objects around her?"

"She, um…" she replies uncertainly, taking a moment to breathe. "I don't think she knows, Puck," she finishes, still confused herself.

He can't possibly look more relieved.

Tina feels exactly the opposite and turns towards Quinn, who's sitting on the stairs, plucking idly at the fibers of beige carpet there. By the look on her face, she seems to share her sentiment.

"Puck…" she begins uneasily, not wanting to break the relief that's in his face, but knowing what they needed to do next. She glances at her shoulder, wondering when exactly had he put his arm around her.

"Yeah, Cohen?"

"You should tell her."

His arm remains where it is, but he takes a step back and fixes her with an incredulous look.

"Are you serious?"

"Puck, she's right."

He turns to Quinn like she's crazy.

"What happened to _going to your grave swearing its Finn's_?"

Her lips purse together in irritation; she hates having her words thrown back at her.

"Well it's a little late for that, don't you think?"

He gripes something unintelligible as she leans an arm backwards, pushing a palm behind her as the other grabs the railing to help herself up. She stands next to Tina, her hands coming together to rest on her belly.

"Your mother should know the truth," Tina whispers firmly, staring at him with a mixture of regret and resolve.

"I learned that the hard way," Quinn murmurs, flashing Tina a tightlipped smile in thanks for backing her up.

He glares at them both.

Even if they're right, having the two girls in his life team up against him is definitely is the last thing he needs right now.

* * *

She makes them walk in first this time.

Puck seems to be bracing himself because he looks sick and he's trudging in as slow as he possibly can.

"Quinn Fabray," his mother greets. She looks up with a surprised smile, and all three of them feel sick. "You just get prettier by the day, don't you?"

Quinn smiles a little, trying not to feel so unbalanced.

"It's nice to see you again, Ms. Puckerman."

His mother ignores how they're all standing there awkwardly and continues to smile.

"How's Finn?"

It takes a good amount of self-control to not abort this mission right then and there.

"Sara," Tina whispers, bending down a little to the girl clinging to her knee. "Why don't you go upstairs?"

"You gonna help with my spelling?"

She grins an adorably almost-toothless grin.

"Of course. I'll be there in a second."

She smiles and skips off.

That, at least, was easy.

Puck exhales, closing his eyes for a second. He opens them and focuses in on his mother's smile.

"Ma."

His mother looks up again with that affectionate smile, but at his anxious face, they all watch as it gradually slips away.

"Is everything—?"

"We have to tell you something."

Tina leans back into the wall as Quinn and Puck both step forward, half-hoping it'll absorb her so she doesn't have to see the inevitable heartbreak on his mother's face.

"You know how Quinn's pregnant…"

He looks back at Quinn as they both try not to cringe at how stupid that just sounded. Of course his mother knows, Lima's a small town, and he's pretty sure her loose dress and baby bump don't leave much to imagination…but he didn't know how else to start this.

"Finn…well…"

_Fuck, this hurts._

"He's uh…" he looks at his mother, hating how worried she suddenly looks, hating that he knows he put that fear there. "He's not the father."

"What are y—?"

But then she stops, staring at Quinn's stomach before inhaling sharply, letting the implication sink in. They watch her sputter softly and incoherently to herself, like her brain is trying to figure out the best way to process this. There isn't one.

She looks back up with tears already in her eyes.

"Oh, Noah…"

"I'm—"

"How—" she falters, putting a hand to her chest before whispering. "How could you be so reckless?"

Tina looks on helplessly as his mother stands and looks like she's going to slap him. Instead she flinches as she watches Quinn unconsciously stroke her stomach in anxiety. Puck wishes she had.

They all watch shamefully as his mother's facial expression turns from one of shock, to disappointment and anger, before crumbling into grief in a matter of seconds.

Tina bites down on her bottom lip. She watches as Puck tries to approach his mother and she knows she should give them space, and starts to back away from the room. Before she goes turns to a crying Quinn. She stands awkwardly there at first, not exactly knowing to do. She knows that during Glee the ex-cheerleader's icy demeanor has melted towards them all, but she still knows they wouldn't exactly consider each other friends.

She reaches out and grasps her hand, gently squeezing hers in what she hopes comes off as a soothing manner. Judging by the way Quinn manages the smallest of smiles, that small gesture seems to be enough.

The last thing she sees before she heads upstairs is the image of Puck's mother with her arms around him, a few silent tears trickling down her cheek. Before she reaches the top of the stairs, she notices this motherly look of protectiveness on her face that tells Tina that, _somehow_, it'll be all right.

* * *

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	18. No One Belongs Here More Than You

_**Chapter 18: No One Belongs Here More Than You**_

"Has the smoked cleared?"

Quinn smiles a little as Tina regards her, leaning against the door to Sara's room, her hand clutching the doorknob. Tina meets her gaze, looking from her cautious expression and thinking that for someone so determined to be seen as intimidating, she's pretty innocent.

"They're talking. Figured I'd follow your lead and give them some space."

Tina nods, turning back to Sara.

"Tina," she says quietly, glancing around the pink walls before back at her. "Can I talk to you?"

Before she can respond, Sara looks up from her book.

"Do I have to go away again?"

They both smile a little and Quinn leans forward.

"It'll just be a second, sweetie. I promise."

Tina can't help but do a double-take, trying to figure out which is the real Quinn—the beauty queen in the cheerio uniform or the girl with her hair down and a maternal air to her voice. She watches as Sara hops away and Quinn slowly eases herself into a sitting position on the bed.

"I know what we did was wrong," she starts softly, and Tina's debating if she even wants to hear this.

"But I thought I was doing what was right at the time…I wanted my daughter to have a good father. I wanted my boyfriend to love me. I wanted so many things, I got caught up in it all."

Quinn toys with a loose thread on the floral comforter before looking at Tina with a sad smile.

"Look, I know if the roles were reversed I'd think you have no right to be sitting here telling me what to do…" she sighs, crossing her arms in front of her.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but that boy cares about you, Tina. At first I thought the world really was rearing on its axis, but I've never seen his face light up that way over anyone—even me."

Tina's sure she's doing a bad job at hiding her surprise.

"I'm not saying you have to completely forgive him," she says resolutely now, fixing her with a serious gaze. Tina doesn't speak, doesn't tell her she already has, doesn't tell her that's not the part she's uneasy about. "Just take this from someone who knows—think about what you may lose if you don't."

* * *

After finally being able to breathe again, finally being able to wash the slushie goo off his face, he finds Tina on his porch bench a little while later, a colorful book in her lap as Sara flips happily through the pages.

"Hey monster, can you go inside for a sec?"

She pouts.

"Why's everybody bossing me around today?"

He laughs and then fixes her with a pointed, mock-serious look.

"I think Mom needs a hug."

She beams, already clambering down from the bench to accomplish her new mission.

Tina stands up to face him, also laughing as Sara flies past her and back into the house.

Before she can do much else, his arms are around her.

Although her breath immediately catches in her throat, she feels her arms automatically wind around him as she's enveloped in his embrace and she feels him exhale a breath he had been holding.

She hears a quiet mumble of thanks into her shoulder, but it was so inaudible she thinks she might've just imagined it.

She pulls back to look at him.

"Is she okay?"

He's looking down and studying the black nail polish on the fingers of the hand she has left resting on his chest. He looks back at her, reflexively licking his lips, and she remembers to ignore how lightheaded him being this close makes her feel.

"She will be."

She gives him a tightlipped smile and sighs. She feels his hands rest easily along her hips and with a fleeting thought, she wonders if she can even be mad at him now if she tried. She looks him over for a moment, his expression a lot more at ease than before. She feels herself exhaling a calm breath and it's then that she realizes she's proud of him.

"How about you?" she asks, tapping her fingers to some imaginary beat.

"It's getting there," he almost laughs before fixing her with a smirk. "You?"

She nods with a small smile and she notices how his gaze keeps flickering from her eyes to her lips. She tries her best not to blush.

"Puck?"

He basically grunts at her, not really listening as he moves towards her.

"Wait—"

She thinks of Quinn and baby names and as much as she wants it to, she doubts this can work.

"You're going to be a father, Puck," she reminds him. He stares at her. "I think it's time I went home."

His expression gives way to yet another scowl.

"I just…could you wait?" he grumbles half to himself in frustration.

She sits and he does the same. He's staring at the planks of wood and he seems to be struggling with what to say.

"This shit doesn't make anymore sense to me than it does to you…"

He tells his shoes. She smiles.

"How eloquent. Do tell me more."

She's giggling and he's glaring.

"It's like…I'm…less fucked up when you're around."

"Um…you're…thank you?"

He scowls again and it's really not helping her laughter.

"Just stay," he murmurs instead of scowls and she seems to instantly sober.

And then, another teasing smile is back on her lips.

"I'm sitting right next to you."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I know no such thing. What _do_ you mean, Puck?"

She crosses her arms, leaning back and regarding him with mock wonder.

"Do you have to make this so fucking difficult, Tina?"

She smiles again. He knows she's doing this on purpose, knows that he owes for her always taking the lead—even if that does make him sound even more like a wuss.

And then after a moment of him glowering towards the ground, "Yes."

"…Yes, you have to make this difficult? Did it really take you that long to answer that?"

"No," she says, staring at him seriously now. "I meant that yes, I can stay."

He pauses and looks at her like he's trying to figure this out—figure out if she means it, figure out why he's hoping like hell that she does.

Before he can say anything else her hand reaches up and soon her fingers are tracing feather-light patterns above his eye. His bruise has healed and she smiles that half-smile for a second before it fades.

"How do we know this is going to work?" she asks, like it's some sort of science experiment.

He shrugs, but he's secretly wondering the same thing.

"We don't. You want it to, right?"

She doesn't have to say anything to answer that one, but she looks back up at him, biting on her bottom lip again in hesitation.

"What about the baby?" she blurts out in a whisper, and he blinks at her.

"Wow you really know how to kill a mood," he says, recovering, and she rolls her eyes and waits for an answer. "Quinn's leaning towards adoption…I told her I got her back either way."

"Does she need a place to stay?"

"My mom was ready to give her a room, even wanted to talk some sense into the fucktards she calls parents, but she said no. Said somebody already offered her a place."

"Who?"

It's his turn to smirk now.

"Kurt."

She stares.

"_What?"_

He laughs.

"Yeah…I don't know how that shit happened either," he admits, shaking his head and stretching an arm out on the back of the bench behind her.

She leans back too, staring at the mailbox across the street.

"Same could be said for us."

He doesn't disagree. He starts to think they've settled this, when:

"What about the other girls?" she asks suddenly.

"What?" he asks, retracting his arm and turning to stare at her.

She merely sweeps her legs underneath her, sitting up and using her fingers to tack off a list.

"Quinn, Santana, Rachel, that redhead from your history class, whoever else is on your panty-raid list—"

"Do you really think I'd be sitting here with you, asking you to stay like a pansy if any of them meant anything?"

"You tell me."

She sits there calmly and he ducks his head to think to formulate an honest answer for her.

"I thought I wanted Quinn," he starts in a low voice and she has to lean towards him to catch it all. "I never planned to split like my _douche_ of a dad did…"

She nods like she's analyzing every word.

"Maybe it was the chase or temptation or whatever…"

He grunts, irritated at himself again.

"I don't know how to explain any of this crap…I just…" he sighs now, and she turns to look at him. "Fridays with you…"

She instantly smiles and decides to be merciful.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you've grown pretty fond of me, Noah Puckerman."

Or not.

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that, right?"

She wants to bicker right back, but she can't argue with the way he's looking at her. She can't read the expression but it made all the air vacate from her lungs, and not necessarily in a bad way. One of her hands reaches itself out to rest under his chin to get him to look up at her.

"You look scared, Puck," she says, as if this whole thing fascinates her.

He scowls but doesn't move away from her touch.

"What about Abrams?" he suddenly counters.

She drops her hand from his chin, and it finds his hand instead.

"He's my friend," she shrugs, staring at the ground a little before looking back at him. "I have a feeling he always will be…"

He looks away again, wondering why this whole thing sounds like some formulaic legal agreement.

"But you," she continues. "You're—"

He doesn't let her finish.

One of his hands cups under her chin, instantly quieting her as the other weaves itself into her hair as he pulls her in for a kiss. She smiles into it and she finds that it's gentler than what she would've expected. It's soft. Calming. And yet it manages to leave her feeling breathless all the same. He pulls back to smirk at her.

"Yeah, you too."

She laughs a little in relief. She moves to stand and he looks up, a little confused.

"We should probably save Quinn from an awkward conversation with your mother before she kills us both."

Before she touches the doorknob, she turns back to him, leaning against it before arching an eyebrow and fixing him with a curious smile.

Her hands reach up, one coming to rest on his shirt collar and the other cupping his cheek. She smiles at him for a moment before she pulls him in for a quick kiss. Then she pulls back with a laugh. He takes one look at the knowing smile on her face and narrows his eyes in skepticism. It's her turn to smirk as he leans back a little and she laces her fingers together behind the back of his neck.

"Still scared?"

She surprises a laugh out of him as he shakes his head and brings his hands to rest at her hips.

"Shitless."

Her smile stretches into a grin.

"Sounds like a personal problem."

* * *

**Hopefully that came out okay. I still don't know what genre this really falls under haha.. Annddd, there's an epilogue to come. ****Reviews are love ****:]**


	19. Epilogue: The Afterglow

_**Epilogue: The Afterglow**_

"I can't do this."

Tina can hear her own black high heels clinking across the floor as she paces back and forth in the dark. They had made it to Regionals and as much as a thrill it is, she feels sick. They are up next and Schue had put her solo on their set list. As grateful as she is, she's pretty sure she's going to puke at any given second.

Mike, who had unexpectedly grown to become one of Tina's closest friends over the past few months, is at her side. He and Brittany, and frequently any other gleek who wanted to attend, had easily joined in on her now bi-monthly Friday night hangouts with Murt and Artie. Although she appreciates the effort, he's currently doing everything short of giving her any sort of consolation right now.

"Try imagining the audience naked? Usually works for me."

She pauses in the middle of wringing her hands and fixes him with a look.

"Michael," she begins in a warning tone that tells him to tread softly. "I adore you, but you're really not helping right now."

"Just breathe, Little Grasshopper, breathe."

She crosses her arms, now biting back a smile.

"Mike?"

He looks back at her knowingly.

"Shut up and go away?" he supplies simply, because this is definitely not the first time this has happened.

"Thank you."

He then shuffles back towards the main group with a pout on his face.

"Okay, mission failed. Who's up next?"

Kurt ignores Mike's tag-teaming fist bump and attempts to move forward in turn to try to calm her down. With a click of her tongue, Mercedes stops him and hisses towards Tina.

"Girl, I love you, but if you're seriously choosing _now_ to wig out, I swear I'll—"

"I got it."

Puck pushes past Mercedes and heads right up to Tina, placing his hands on her shoulders to get her to stop pacing along the red curtain.

Although she's glaring, Mercedes can't help but smile a little at the sight.

Tina blinks at Puck, the stage lights trickling across her face as she looks out at the rest of them; Rachel's a few feet away, peaking through the gap in the curtain to spy at the audience, a look of terrifying hunger in her eyes. At first Tina had been afraid this solo had put her right on top of the Rachel Berry Hit-list, but a few dates and a duet later with Finn, Tina was reassured her life was no longer in danger.

She catches the gaze of Quinn, who flashes her a reassuring smile before turning back to the group, having already hugged her before they had been led to this waiting area. Maybe in another life she would've been surprised, but she knows, without a doubt, they're all equal parts of this lovely, dysfunctional family the group had steadily grown into. After Quinn had her baby, Quinn had opted to keep staying at Kurt's before her parents had finally let her come home. It had been an adjustment, but with their help, Quinn was getting her life back, maybe not the one full of chastity balls and cheerio uniforms—but a better one.

Those nights in the hospital hadn't been easy on any of them.

They had each taken turns visiting her hospital room, considering the nurses vowed it was surely a fire hazard to have all remaining 11 members and Schue and Ms. Pillsbury crammed into one room with a birthing mother.

Puck, Kurt and Tina were the ones who stayed the longest.

Kurt had helped Quinn with her Lamaze techniques even when she was flushed and sweaty and yelled at him to go away. He simply patted a cool damp rag to her forehead and told her she gets a free pass at the insults since she's pooping out a human being. Puck held Quinn's hand as their daughter was born into the world; Tina held his when they watched her being cradled away in the arms of her adoptive parents.

When he had asked her if it was weird for her, being there, she simply shook her head and smiled, asking where else would she be?

It was then he knew he couldn't really ask for much more than this.

Artie's eyes meet Tina's next and he gives her a warm smile; things were awkward at first, especially that practice when Artie kept staring disbelieving at the arm Puck had draped around Tina. He had rolled up to her after and told her pointblank he didn't understand why she was with him. When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up a hand, telling her even if he didn't understand it, that didn't mean he didn't want her to be happy. He added that if Puck so much as made one wrong move, he wouldn't hesitate in running him over. She laughed in relief and hugged him. Juggling a new relationship while trying to rebuild an old friendship definitely had been anything but easy, but they both missed being in each other's lives and a few Halo battles and jam sessions later, she felt like she was finally getting her best friend back.

Behind Artie is Finn, who pauses from drumming out his excitement on the back the wheelchair handles to flash her a goofy grin. Things were never the same between him and Quinn and Puck, but nobody could really blame him for that. Still, though, when Kurt had called Tina late that night and Puck's hand latched onto hers, yanking her out the door on the way to his truck, the first person Tina called was Finn, who, to his credit, had sprung up and rushed to his mother's station wagon, beating them to the hospital by minutes.

Puck had raced like a madman into the parking lot, skidding to a hasty stop at the hospital entrance to let Tina fly out. She ran to greet both Finn and Kurt by grasping one of each of their hands and bombarding them with a string of questions, asking if either of them had heard anything yet. Finn shook his head and remembered to call his mother to tell her where he went so she wouldn't think her car was stolen again and call Rachel, who'd lividly gouge out his eyes if he didn't.

When a nurse summoned Kurt into the delivery room, claiming Quinn was calling for him, they were the first three to camp out in the waiting room. Tina fell asleep between them, with her fingers intertwined with Puck's and her head slumped against Finn's arm. Puck had slowly reached over so he wouldn't wake her and held his free hand out to Finn in silence. Something cleared in their cloudy expressions when he shook it.

Then they split up the task of calling everyone else before they risked being skinned alive by the rest of them.

Next in line are Brittany and Santana. Santana is standing in between Matt and Brittany; one hand squeezing Brittany's in anticipation and as the other is snaked around Matt's back as she leans into him, all of them listening to the applause and mentally going over dance moves at the literal last minute.

Her attention drifts back to Puck when he tucks a now-purple streak behind her ear.

"Don't sweat it, Cohen," he murmurs, his hands sliding from her shoulders to her waist. "You've seen Vocal Adrenaline's soloist, right? He has a Jheri curl and man-boobs. Guy's a total douche."

She laughs a little and bows her head, her fingers fiddling with his shirt collar.

"Hey," he calls, placing a hand under her chin to get her to look up at him. "I'm serious, Tina. You got this. 'Leaf on the wind', remember?"

She all but bursts out into laughter.

"You're seriously quoting _Serenity_ at me? Oh, what have I done to you?"

He scowls.

"You're the one who makes me watch that shit every weekend. I don't even—"

She puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

"I like you," she says simply, and although he rolls his eyes, she notices how he pulls her closer.

He's now smirking like he's got some little secret; he has on that look he reserves just for her, that look that makes her cheeks burn and her stomach flip, that look he's wearing when he pushes her against the wall on a whim, kissing her breathless before she can protest…

She curses herself for losing focus and guides herself back to thoughts of lyrics and melodies and not kissing Noah Puckerman.

She evidently fails, her grin genuine as her hand moves from his collar to the back of his neck to pull him in for a quick kiss in thanks anyways. At least, she intended for it to be quick. He instead reels her in, his arms snaking across her lower back and she can already feel the familiar blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Hey," a voice hisses at them.

Tina turns around, leaning her back against Puck as his arms automatically wrap around her. They're met with a death-glare from Mercedes.

"None of that ish—we're on in 30 seconds," she scolds, and they grin back at her. "The last thing we need is the judges marking us down for being creeped out by a Mohawked punk with lipstick smeared all over his face like a damned fool."

Tina holds back a laugh and rolls her eyes before exhaling once more. She disentangles herself from Puck to get into formation, accidentally bumping into Santana and Matt in the process. The first flashes her the traditional glare but soon gives into an excited grin and the latter simply nudges her back, an easygoing smirk lighting up his face. She smiles at them both, but soon enough she's staring at the curtains again, dreading what's behind it, when she feels someone lean over to squeeze her hand.

It's Rachel.

"This is going to be amazing, Tina. _You're_ going to be amazing," she whispers, that frighteningly perfect Rachel-Berry-smile gracing her lips.

She lets go and they all take a deep breath as their club name is being announced and the curtains fly open, shining bright lights upon them, their months' worth of work lighting them up in the afterglow. Tina beams back in thanks before casting one more glance back at Puck.

_This is going to be amazing_, she repeats in her head.

And it was.

* * *

**Again, thank you for all the love and support with this fic. I have never completed a multi-chapter fic like this before and I have never received such an incredible response for a story before, especially one for a UC couple! Thank you for joining me on this wonderful ride and as always, reviews are love, so feel free to leave me feedback—Questions? Comments? Favorite chapters? Favorite characters? Requests? Glad it's finally over? Haha.**

—**Hana**


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